Adv Log Session 40: Dwarfchat, Finally

General Summary

Ralsday, Leafturn 27, 879 AFE




Captain Gwendal had put on six rowers that morning, mostly from the urging of Almë, who couldn’t sit still. He’d even taken a turn at the oar for a while, and while he had enthusiasm and willingness, he lacked the rhythm necessary to row a boat with other rowers. The captain could tell, just by watching him row, that he didn’t get tired as quickly as the other rowers, but his form was so bad that he had to pull him off of rowing. There was a technique to it, that sailors learned fairly quickly, of being efficient with the strokes to maximize the force output applied to the water. Almë, despite his apparently boundless energy, lacked that.


“That’s enough, Almë,” Captain Gwendal had told him. “I think you have helped us make up some time. Go rest, even if you don’t feel like you need it. Your muscles will thank you later.”


Almë nodded, and set his oar down against the bulwark, where he had gotten it. But he couldn’t actually rest. He still felt he had to move. He went to the bow, where Elitheris sat scanning the river ahead. Her bow, unstrung, lay on the deck next to her.


Almë sat down next to her, trying to meditate, but failing. He couldn’t get his breathing under control, and after a few minutes gave up, stood, and made his way amidships. He peeked under the tarps covering the cargo, reading the labels where he could, just to keep busy.


Seeing the effect of the greasy gel on Almë, Elitheris pulled out the sample she had that she had wrapped up in a large leaf. Unfolding the leaf, she looked at it, and noticed that she could see tiny bubbles in it. Every now and then, a bubble would rise up and pop at the surface. It was sort of like the bubbles in beer, although the gel was much thicker. Along the edges of the thick gel sample was a thin line of whitish, dried residue. She paused, considering, then refolded the leaf and put the sample back in her pack.




They were starting to see hillier terrain, and the river was noticeably narrower, with more curves and bends. There were also more rocks, both along the shore, and in the river, where the river had, over millennia, cut into the geology.


When the jungle canopy allowed, they could get glimpses of the mountains, tall and capped with white, although it was late in the warm season, and much of the slopes were brown, or, lower down, covered in a brownish green texture that could only be trees, their color attenuated by the atmosphere.


It started to rain at about midday, and it came down hard. The temperature was still high at 27° C, so the rain, despite feeling cool, was still a pain in the ass and made everyone uncomfortable.


The sailing crew put up the tarps to protect the already-warped cargo and the passengers. Most of the rowers had to be at the bulwarks rowing, so they weren’t able to take advantage of the shelters. At some points during the day, the rain came down so hard that there was a solid sheet of water forming a curtain at both sides of the sheltering tarp. Anyone moving from underneath the tarp to the bulwarks got absolutely drenched having to move through what was, in effect, a waterfall.


The wind was blowing at about 16 kmh, so the crew had the sail down and working. The crew not manning the oars were manning the sail, which they had to adjust continually. Both the wind and the course of the river changed direction so often that as soon as they had the mast secured they had to untie it again to reposition it. They were running around so much that taking a turn at the oar was considered “rest”.


Ruby was miserable. Most of the time on the boat trip, she was able to control her seasickness, at least to a certain degree. On this day, however, she was stuck with her head over the bulwark, unable to do much except throw up her breakfasts, elevenses, and lunch, until she could only dry heave. The pain and discomfort in her belly had spread to her head, likely caused by her abdomen’s spastic contractions. Regardless, she was unable to really take part in whatever was happening on board the boat. All she saw was the river below her, her distorted reflection mercifully unrecognizable. She wasn’t sure she wanted a clear mirror to see how miserable she must have looked.


Taid took the opportunity to stretch out under the tarp, his armor off, taking a nap. He’d gotten into the bad but maybe necessary habit of sleeping in his gambeson and breastplate in the field, and he often woke in the middle of the night as the metal edges dug into his body, or because he was hot and sweaty under the thirty layers of his linen gambeson.


He lived in the tropics. Wearing what amounted to winter clothing at night made sleep elusive. But on the boat, it was safe, or at least safer, and he felt comfortable doffing his armor. He snored, his head on his rolled up gambeson, using it as a pillow. The rowers used his rhythmic noises as a cadence for rowing.


When Itura called out the cadence, “Snore! Snore! Snore!” Instead of “Stroke, stroke, stroke”, she got laughs out of most of the crew.


Eykit was using the time on board to build his strength, mainly push ups but also simply lifting crates of cargo and putting them down again. He didn’t have the physical stature of his larger companions, nor did he have large weapons. His weapons of choice were what most warriors would call a weapon of last resort, to be used when all of their other weapons were gone, and the only alternative was bare hands.


But to Eykit, his knives were his primary weapons, his sidearms, and his emergency weapons, all rolled into one. And rondel daggers, while being good for punching through various armors, still could be thwarted by the smooth curved steel of plate harness. He wanted to be able to perforate that armor and surprise the fuck out of the armored knight, assuming he got stuck in that scenario. And to do that, he’d need to work out more.


He grimaced as he pushed himself through another set of ten pushups, his fourth set in the last half hour. He preferred to use stealth to get things done, not brute force. This felt like a step back. But he kept on; there had been too many situations in the past two months where skill, speed, and yes, strength, had been necessary. He believed in being prepared.


The afternoon was uneventful, which suited everyone on board just fine. They’d all had their fill of dangerous creatures and odd happenings while on this trip, and a nice, quiet sailing day was welcomed. At sunset, they found a decent place to camp.


It was at a curve in the river, where a lazy S-curve formed a sandy area that was mostly clear of vegetation. There was a four meter thick band of trees and bushes, before the land rose up in an eight meter tall cliff of sandstone, worn into ripples by wind and water.


Almë and Taid did their usual pre-camping scouting and preparations. The campsite was shrouded in a mist that only they could see through. They set up their tarp shelters, unrolled their bedrolls, and got the cookware going.


After dinner, Almë sat down with Ruby to learn a new spell. He wanted to learn the spell of Lending Energy, which was a spell that could be used to give another mage some more power. It was also the spell one had to learn before they could learn the spell of Recovering Energy.


Although technically, the spell of Recovering Energy wasn’t a spell at all, but a meditative practice that allowed the mage doing it to “rest faster”, recovering their magical energies by pulling more of the environmental ambient mana into their bodies. While most mages didn’t usually require it, war mages, construction mages, and agricultural mages were known to favor it.


Ruby spent a few hours that night instructing Almë about the theoretical underpinnings of the spell, focusing mainly on the thaumic formulae that dictated energy flows.


Ruby, being the experienced courtier that she was, had trained underlings before, mostly about how to interact with the lords and ladies of the royal court and the various councils that made up so much of Adayn. The Empire was big, and it took a lot of people to keep it running smoothly. She’d even had to help guide an apprentice or two when she was a journeyman mage under the tutelage of her master, Magister Goren Tregurtha.




Taid took first watch. It was quiet, and when his watch was over, he woke Elitheris. She arose, rubbing her eyes. “All quiet so far,” Taid told her. She nodded in return, and took to her post.


She strung her bow. She didn’t think she’d need it; the Mystic Mist that Taid had created did a great job of scaring away the wild animals that might harass them. But she wanted her bow ready at a moment’s notice, just in case.


As she was pacing around the camp, trying to stay awake, she saw in the night’s dimness a bush, covered in bluish flowers. It was a bushmead plant. Its flowers were medicinal. It was a mild sedative and pain killer. She collected several doses, and put them in with the other herbs they had in the preservation box. It was a popular herbal remedy, often used in remote areas far from areas where healing potions and magical healing was scarce.


She also noticed that the vegetation was starting to change to something less tropical and more temperate. The jungle was transitioning to forest.


Taid, upon falling asleep, had another dream.


Taid was at a party. It was in a large hall, filled with the rich and mighty. He recognized a few of them: Baroness Walters, Baron Jellinek, Count Rhades, even Archduchess Featherstone was there. They were dancing to a sourceless music, but there was an undercurrent of strife or conflict, although Taid didn’t see any outward evidence of that. Everyone was smiling, talking, dancing. He, alone, wasn’t dancing. He would have liked to, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to. He knew that, accepted that, felt that it was right and natural. He shouldn’t be dancing. Especially with these people.

He looked around, seeing the servants filling drinks and setting plates and bowls of food on the tables. The dancers danced by the tables, taking food as they went by, their dances uninterrupted. There were a great many servants, it seemed, certainly more than the number of dancers. The servants jumped out of the way as dancers came near; the dancers seemed to have little to no regard of the servants. As Taid watched, a pair of dancers slammed into a servant carrying a jug of wine; the servant went down, the jug arcing up, then down, to crash and splinter on the floor, creating a huge puddle of wine that spread over the polished marble. The dancers, uncaring or unaware, danced first over the servant, who was struggling to get up, but was ultimately unable to once trodden on by the dancers, then danced through the puddle of wine, scattering red droplets all over the surrounding furniture, servants, and even some of the dancers.


He heard a tinkling sound, soft, even over the sounds of the dancers and the music. Taid turned towards the sound. The wall he faced was an immense stained glass window, comprising the entire length of the wall of the room, some 80’, from floor to 40’ ceiling. The sheer amount of colored glass and leading boggled him. The stained glass window showed a night landscape, with a town and trees in the foreground, and a starry sky with two moons visible. No. Wait. That wasn’t right.


Only one moon. The spot where the smaller moon had been was empty. Bright sunlight shone through the hole, illuminating Taid like a spotlight.


The music stopped, as did the dancers. They all looked at Taid, their stares boring into him.


Taid woke with a start. It was dawn.


Starsday, Leafturn 28, 879 AFE


The sky lightened in the east, and the crew of the Dossit Float climbed out from under their shelters, rolled up their bedrolls, and untied their shelters. Their passengers did the same. By now, everyone knew the drill, and had developed fairly efficient ways of breaking down their camping gear.


Erven didn’t bother with a fire; Captain Gwendal didn’t want to wait for breakfast before getting on the river. There had been a lot of delays on the trip, and he wanted to make up some time before another delay cropped up.


The day seemed cooler than the previous day had been, and by the time they were done getting their gear stowed on the boat the sky was drizzling water onto them. The wind blew in gusts, stronger than the day before, but stirred into turbulence by the geography of the surrounding land.


The tarps were still up, strung from lines fore and aft, and tied off at the corners. The rain steadily increased, causing sheets of water to cascade from the edges of the tarps.


“I want four rowers up,” Captain Gwendal commanded. “And I want at least two people bailing at all times. The other two will man the sail. I suspect that, like yesterday, it will be work keeping the sail trimmed to the wind.”


“Aye, Cap’n,” Elias said, snapping a salute. He pointed at Jory, Itura, Fikkiil, and Artur. “You four start at the oars.” The four nodded, and went to their stations, two fore, two aft, placing their oars in the water and starting to pull.


“Erven, you and I are on the sail.” He saw Erven nod.


“And Wynnstan and I are bailing,” Alexa said.


Elias nodded. “Yup. At shift change, Jory and Fikkiil will be on sail duty.”


Wynnstan and Alexa went to gather the bailing buckets, and started dumping the water from the bilge overboard.


Captain Gwendal changed the shifts every half hour or so, and the crew rotated through the various duties. By midmorning, the rain had increased, and the bailers were starting to have trouble keeping up with the rain. It kept dumping water faster onto them than they could throw it overboard.


The passengers helped. Taid tried to grab the bucket, but Eykit beat him to it. The little Goblin was fast, and the continual lifting of a bucket full of water would act as weight training. It would save him doing pushups.


Taid used his helmet, as there were no more buckets. But it worked. In the field, he’d used his helmet as a washbasin on many occasions. It wasn’t as good as a bucket, being much shallower, but it did the job.


Almë and Ruby were feeling too queasy to bail; the repeated motion and having to look down into the bottom of the boat only made them feel worse.


Elitheris dug around in the camp supplies, finding a cauldron that would work as a slightly oversized bucket.


“Fill it only halfway,” Erven mentioned, as he pulled on an oar. “You’ll get less tired that way.”


“Thanks,” Elitheris replied. The cauldron could hold fifteen liters or so. She saw how the water was shed off of the shelter tarps, then pressed down on the edge of the tarp with her finger. It created a shallow trough in the tarp, funneling the water over her hand. She held the cauldron under the stream of water, tossing the water over the side when it reached about half full. She avoided having to keep bending down to fill the bucket.


Shortly after midday, they passed the mouth of the Labma id-shalâk river as it dumped its contents into the Mahimlêm Id-Abshad river. The Labma was a tributary, coming from the mountains to the north of Dwarfchat, via a large amounts of rapids and waterfalls. The Dossit Float continued up the Mahimlêm.


The jungle was swiftly giving way to forest, although several of the more hardy jungle plants managed to do well enough in the slightly cooler climes of the foothills. By now, even Taid, Eykit, and Ruby noticed. They also noticed fewer colorful birds; many of the birds they were seeing in the trees were drab in comparison to the brightly colored birds of the tropics. Deer were more plentiful, and antelopes less and less seen.


It rained all day, and all day they rowed, sailed, and bailed. The wind, ever changing in the confines of the foothills, combined with the meanderings of the river, made those on sail duty quite busy, just like the day before. It was less a relaxing boat ride and more a busy, exhausting time spent in almost continual motion.


Around sunset, a time based on the fact that the overcast was darkening, rather than being able to actually see the sun, they made camp. They moored their boat to a rock that stood like a tilted standing stone, debarked, and made camp. Almë and Taid did their usual scouting and defense work.


Alexa made a hearty vegetable stew, and a second pot with meat in a broth. The two could be combined into a stew much like lobscouse, but left a meatless option for Ruby. In either case, it was warm, filling, and very welcome.

After dinner, Ruby taught Almë about the spell of Lending Energy. Elitheris listened in. She already knew the spell, but had learned it laboriously from books, without a teacher. She was hoping to get some better understanding of the thaumatological basis of how the spell worked, something she severely lacked. Magical theory was something that she hadn’t really done much with, lacking a teacher for it and not getting much of it in the spell books she learned magic from.


“…so as you can see,” Ruby was explaining, “according to the Principle of Reflective Similarity, the mental focus required to move the mana from you to your subject is highly dependent upon how close you are to the subject. More distance, more focus.”

“Okay,” Almë said, “that makes sense, but you said that the magic required a passageway or conduit. Surely not a physical one?”


“No, it’s a figurative concept. Metaphor. A lot of magic is metaphor. Dwarven mages, I understand, use the idea of a pipe, and Elves, like yourselves, might think about it as a root network.”


Almë and Elitheris exchanged glances. She was right. “How did you know? About Elven metaphorical conceptualizations?”


“I spent considerable time with the Elves of Toinalomë as a diplomatic attaché for a couple of years.”


“Wooden Twilight?” Elitheris asked, referring to the Elven name Ruby had given. “Where is that?” Almë looked interested too.


“It’s a Kingtree, up north, on a tributary of the Kikradi River. Big place,” she added with a smile, “for an Elven settlement.”

“Kingtree!” Almë said delightedly. “I’ve heard of them, but haven’t had a chance to see one.”


Elitheris had heard of them as well, but hadn’t traveled far enough north in her journeys to get into its climate range. Kingtrees required cooler climes.


“It’s where I got this,” Ruby said, indicating her Elven Silversilk.


Elitheris cocked her head. She had been wondering where a Hobbit had managed to get clothing worth a fiefdom. “You must have really impressed someone there.”


“Saved some Elven children from some kidnappers,” Ruby said, almost nonchalantly. “Internal political stuff.” Her tone said she wouldn’t likely give any more detail. Ruby mentally kicked herself for saying as much as she did. She was getting too comfortable with these people, nice as they were. They weren’t Central, however.


She changed the subject back to spell casting. “Alme, show me the hand positions you use to guide the energy flows when you shape plants. I’m sure you could modify them and use them for projecting energy directly to another subject in a usable form….”


Lifesday, Leafturn 29, 879 AFE


Dawn broke among clear skies. The rain-filled overcast had moved on during the night. A few clouds, puffy and white, drifted lazily along in the barely noticeable breeze. They broke camp, got on the boat, and headed upriver. The day got warm fairly quickly, and the humidity was very high, making the air seem thick and hard to breathe. But at least it wasn’t raining.


They ate aboard ship, and it was an hour into the trip when Almë and Ruby realized that they didn’t feel too bad that day. Neither of them felt very nauseated, with only a hint to remind them that it could strike at any time. But that they could ignore; the seasickness could be ignored and forgotten, since it wasn’t constantly reminding them that it was there.


They felt good enough for Ruby to teach Almë more about the Lend Energy spell, progressing onto the basic body positions required to channel the magic. Almë spent most of the morning appearing to do a repetitive and not terribly graceful dance.


An hour before midday, Elitheris saw some wild onions growing along the bank. “Captain, can we stop here for a moment and harvest those onions?”


Before Gwendal could answer, Alexa said, “They would certainly dress up the ship’s rations tonight.”


Without a word, Captain Gwendal guided the ship towards the bank. It didn’t seem like a large patch of feral vegetables, and they certainly would make whatever Erven and Alexa cobbled together that evening taste that much better.


It only took a quarter of an hour to harvest what they could, which amounted to about a dozen small bulbs and their greens.


In the afternoon, Ruby had Almë chanting, getting the pronunciation correct for the verbal component of the spell she was teaching him. This went on for about an hour, as she instructed him on the proper words of power, how to pronounce them, how to emphasize the proper syllables, how to say them in the proper cadence, and how to project his will through them. Later that day, he was back doing the repetitive dance, this time with a verbal complement.


Surreptitiously, Elitheris practiced the hand motions. Ruby’s were slightly different than the ones Elitheris used, but she put that down to variances in how she interpreted the drawings in the books she learned from. Seeing it done with actual living hands was a lot better than the sketches and descriptions she had used. She even practiced the spell a bit, sending Wynnstan a bit of energy when he looked like he was tiring at the oar.


It was late in the afternoon when something caught Eykit’s eye. It was a glint of light, in the shallow water at the riverbank. It hadn’t been a reflection off of the water itself; light had reflected off of something under the water.


He put a queasy expression on his face. “Captain?” he said, turning to face Captain Gwendal. “I need to get off the boat here. I’m not feeling so good in the nether regions.” He looked miserable, a product of his acting skills and naturally green skin.


Captain Gwendal frowned. “A little rumbly in the basement?”


“Uh, yeah. I’d rather not have to deal with this on the boat.” He got a shocked expression on his face, and moaned softly, clutching his midsection. “Maybe if can take a walk out a ways….”


The captain swung the rudder hard over, and the boat glided smoothly closer to bank, until the keel ground into the muddy riverbank. “This will make a decent campsite,” he said to the crew.


Taid complained. “Dwarfchat! We need to get to Dwarfchat! This is going to take forever!” He would have been fine boating at night, although no one else would have been.


As soon as the boat was moored, Eykit climbed out, taking exaggerated care, as if his bowels were about to explode. He went off into the bushes to take care of business.


About ten minutes later, he was done, and he went to the river, ostensibly to wash his hands. He was really looking for the glint he saw. With a bit of searching, he found it. It was an uncut diamond, about as large as his fingernail was wide. A good find. He made a mental note to check around that place again, when he got the chance. But he had run out of time; if he had dillydallied any longer, the others might have become suspicious and come looking for him. He didn’t want that. This was his discovery. He rose, and went back to camp.


By this time, Erven was setting up the campfire, and everyone was picking out their spots for their tarp shelters.


After washing his hands, he set up his tarp and bedroll, then collapsed into it, “still sick”.


Taid took first watch, although all was quiet. Almë took second watch, and while the night was still quiet, he noticed some marks on some of the tree trunks around the camp site. He rose, wanting to take a closer look.


Even he, with his height, had to look up to examine the marks. They were still about a meter above his head. They were a series of parallel scratches, like those made by animals marking their territory. He figured it was either some kind of bear, or perhaps one of the great cats. Or maybe a griffin. He listened, but the jungle was silent, but for the small insects, night birds, and the rustling of the wind, all normal evening sounds. He sniffed the tree, and noted that there was an underlying muskiness to the normally woody scent.


He went back into the area protected by the Mystic Mist, disappearing from the view of any outside of it.


“Elitheris,” he said, after waking her for her turn on watch, “I found some territorial markings on some trees nearby. Didn’t hear or see what made them, but it could be around here somewhere.”


Elitheris nodded. The markings usually signified the edges of a territory. She strung her bow, getting it ready for her watch. Even if Almë hadn’t found markings, she would have strung her bow at the beginning of the watch, but his discovery made her more wary. She didn’t expect trouble, but she wanted to be ready for it.


A couple of hours into her watch, she heard some roars in the distance. They were too far away to determine what had made them, being attenuated by distance an intervening jungle vegetation. But they didn’t seem to be an immediate threat.


She woke Erven, who had the dawn watch. He liked taking dawn watch; it allowed him to be awake when they needed to break down camp. He often would take dawn watch, although on this trip many of the watches were taken by the passengers. Their campsite preparations were also welcomed, and he was going to miss them when they parted company.


“Erven,” Elitheris said, “Almë found some territory markings on some trees nearby, and I heard some roars in the distance. I don’t suspect that there will be any trouble, and if the animal that made those marks drops by for a visit, it should avoid the mist and not enter. So don’t go too far out of the mist.”


“Aye,” he said. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere anyway. I can’t really see much in the dark.” The moon was gibbous, just past half-full. “Even here by the riverbank, the jungle blocks the moonlight.” The campfire was banked, with ready unlit torches nearby for light when required. Until then, Erven would keep his night vision. “But thanks for the warning, lady. I appreciate it.”


Dawn’s pale light glowed in the east as the camp roused for the new day.





Spiritsday, Leafturn 30, 879 AFE


It was a cooler morning, and mostly clear of clouds, and Eykit visited the woods one more time to “make sure his rumbly tummy was fine.” He went behind some bushes for privacy, groaned softly for effect, and scrambled back to the riverbank where he had found his treasure the night before. He ran his fingers through the silty mud, feeling for hard lumps with corners. He found several, getting a handful of the uncut gemstones, of varying sizes.


He grinned. Treasure! It was good to be looting again, even if it was just a river, and not one of the rich folks’ mansions. Maybe there would be some manor houses to steal from in Dwarfchat…. Cities were good for that sort of thing, and he was getting mighty tired of this wilderness nonsense.


He shook his wet hands after filling his canteen with fresh river water, noting that the day was fairly windy, something he hadn’t noticed in camp, surrounded as it was by protective vegetation. On the river, however, they didn’t have that, although that meant that the boat could use the sail and make better progress. He smiled at that, too, his sharp teeth glinting like the diamonds in his pocket.


Then it was time to leave the campsite and get on with the river travel. It wasn’t long before both Almë and Ruby were miserable. They tried staying in the back, were there was a bit less movement, but that didn’t help ease their queasiness. They moved up to the front, leaning over the bulwark on either side of Elitheris. Whatever they ate ended up feeding the fish.


It wasn’t long before Elitheris and Mr. Wiggles had to move back a bit, just to get away from the rather disturbing noises being made. She settled amidships, sitting on the sacks of barley with Eykit.


Elitheris shook her head. “Those two look as green as you do.”


“They’ve been having a hard time almost since we boarded this morning. They look worse than I did last night.” He kept up the fiction. There was no reason to tell any uncomfortable truths. Besides, doing that might make him feel obligated to share, and what would his guild say about that? It would be embarrassing at the very least. “You think they might stop heaving any time soon?”


The Elven woman shrugged. “Don’t know. I hope so. The urge to vomit has to stop at some point. And they haven’t had anything in their stomachs for the last twenty minutes. It’s just painful convulsions now.”


“Usually puking makes you feel better,” the Goblin said, rubbing his chin. There was a bit of stubble there; it felt horrible. He never could stand growing facial hair. He’d have to shave that off later, when he got the chance. “When I’ve had too much to drink, and felt sick, getting rid of it helped.”


“They aren’t sick, though. Not with a disease, like the flux, or from being drunk. So throwing up likely isn’t going to make them feel better. We’ll need to not travel by boat for that.”


“Pity. Does this mean we have to go back via an overland route?” That meant likely traveling with a caravan, on roads. With people to talk to. Lots of moving parts, some which they might not notice went missing…. “I wouldn’t mind going overland back to Port Karn when this is done.”


“It’ll take longer,” Elitheris cautioned.


Eykit shrugged, “Eh, that doesn’t bother me. It’s at least slightly closer to civilization than striking out on a boat. Did you see the lack of villages along this route?”


“Yes, I did.”


“The overland route will have more villages. More villages means more actual beds, with actual roofs. Less sleeping out under the stars.” Eykit rubbed at a spot near his hip. “Slept on a rock last night, and the rock left me a message. You wanna know what it says?”


Elitheris grinned and nodded.


“Don’t fucking sleep outside!” he said. “And I plan on taking that sage advice as much as possible. Of all the things in Dwarfchat that I am looking forward to the most, the beds are at the top of the list. Under ‘beds’ is ‘pillows’, followed by ‘mattress’. And following that is ‘an actual room to sleep in’!”


Elitheris laughed. “You softie. Your tiny Goblin butt isn’t padded enough, I guess. Although I’m surprised that the roof wasn’t first on the list.”


“Thought about it,” Eykit admitted, shrugging a shoulder. “But a proper bed came first. Tarps work okay enough for shelter. Can’t replace a good bed, though.”




The river gradually widened, becoming shallower and marshy. River grasses and cattails lined the sides of the banks in thick clumps. Lily pads filled in the places where it was too deep for the grasses, and there were few areas of the river that were clear of vegetation. The lotus flowers were mostly past their season, but there were a few of the yellow and pink blooms here and there, scattered in the mass of greens and light browns. On either bank of the river, thick jungle growth overhung and shadowed the grasses and cattails. Birdsong and the splashes of fish in the shallows could be heard over the chattering of arboreal monkeys.


There were also mats of vegetation, formed by the action of the river’s current and the verdant growth. They looked disturbingly familiar, especially to Elitheris.


“Everyone get to the middle of the boat!” she shouted, even as she backed away from the bulwarks. She was remembering the fideal, that had attacked the boat days earlier, pulling herself and Mr. Wiggles off the boat and into the water. She had been saved only by Ruby’s and Taid’s spell casting.


“What?” asked Captain Gwendal. “What is it?”


The four rowers looked around in confusion for a moment, but then they saw the mats too. Jory, at the fore port oarlock, was the first to pull his oar and stow it. He’d drawn, in intricate detail, the scene of Elitheris getting pulled out of the boat by the fideal. So he knew immediately what Elitheris feared.


“Ruby! Almë!” Elitheris ordered. “Grab a helmet, bucket, I don’t give a shit! Get to the middle of the boat!”


Elias, at the aft port oarlock, looked at Elitheris, then glanced at Captain Gwendal. “Uh, we can’t! We have to row!”


The day was one of the windier ones, with a breeze coming in at about 30 kph.


“Everyone!” Captain Gwendal commanded. “To the center of the boat. Elias, Artur, stay close to me, in case it’s able to reach me here at the rudder.”


Elitheris pleaded, “Let the wind take care of this! No more people getting pulled off the boat!”


The captain didn’t want anyone pulled off his boat, either. And while they could manage the sail all right without getting to close to the bulwarks for very long, he needed to be at the rudder, constantly turning the boat to maneuver through the obstacles in the river.

Following the rather prudent instructions given by both their captain and their passenger, the crew stowed their oars and moved towards the center of the boat. Noticing that Ruby and Almë had been hanging over the rail all morning, Alexa and Erven grabbed a pair of bailing buckets, handing them to the two seasick passengers.


Fikkiil climbed up the ratlines tied to the mast, getting some height so he could see forward. No one else could, being in the center of the boat, and someone needed to tell Captain Gwendal which way to steer. He stopped climbing when he was above the spar. Strong legs locked around the mast, holding him up there.


“I mark six mats!” he called down. “Two starboard, four port! Come around two points starboard!”


The bewhiskered Goblin called down steering instructions in a continuous stream, helping Captain Gwendal steer the boat around the shallower areas of the river, the shoals of grasses, the suspicious mats of vegetation, and the occasional exposed boulder. The rest of the crew wrestled with the sail, trying their best to optimize the wind’s pressure, keeping the boat moving despite no one rowing.


The crew was skilled, and with Fikkiil’s eyes, the captain’s deft handling of the rudder, and the strength and speed of the crew, they managed to get out of the marshy area after about an hour of careful maneuvering.


The river deepened, and the grasses, cattails, and lilies became sparser and sparser, until they disappeared behind them completely. They could tell the current was stronger there as well as they slowed down, the wind not being able to compete as well as it did when the river was wider and the current slower.


“We out of danger?” Captain Gwendal called from the rudder.


“I think so, sir,” Fikkiil called down from the mast. He scanned the surroundings in all directions. “No marshes, no mats, no fideals.”


“Excellent! Back to the oars, folks. Itura, Elias, Wynnstan, Alexa. Take first shift.”


With a series of acknowledgments, the four named crew went to the rowing stations, unstowed the oars, and got them into the oarlocks. The boat started surging forward as they pulled on the oars, making its way upriver.


About an hour later, they came around a bend in the river, and saw a tree that had fallen into the river years ago. What got their attention wasn’t that the tree trunk blocked their way; it didn’t. The tree fall was almost parallel to the flow of the river, by the riverbank. It didn’t impede river traffic at all.


What got their attention was the fact that other vegetation was growing from it, specifically, a candaran plant. It covered a large portion of the fallen tree in a carpet of dark green teardrop-shaped leaves, sort of like a five-leafed clover. Made into a tea, the leaves relieved fatigue. It was often used by midwives to help women give birth, although anyone suffering from exhaustion found it to be a useful medicine.


“Hey Captain,” Almë asked, “can you guide the boat over to that fallen tree? We’d like to harvest that candaran. Won’t take but a few minutes.”


Captain Gwendal thought about it, then guided the boat towards the riverbank. Almë wasn’t wrong; it wasn’t a large patch of candaran, so it didn’t take long to gather what they could from it. They added the seven doses they got to their collection of leaves they kept in the preservation box.


Sailing upriver was uneventful until midafternoon. Taid, Elitheris, and Ruby felt a change in the ambient mana level: it was rising. Looking around, they saw a nice secluded grove on the port side of the river. It was to the west, due to the path of the river, but the group had been on the boat long enough to start using directions relative to the boat.

It looked like it would be a good place to camp. The only problem was that there were still a few hours of travel left in the day, and Captain Gwendal didn’t look like he was in any hurry to make camp.

Eykit was the first to notice, with his sharp, tunable Goblin ears, the subliminal sounds that seemed to be reminiscent of softly tinkling wind chimes. He cocked his head, listening, ranging his parabolic hearing out towards the glade as the boat slowly drifted past.


“Anyone else hear that?” he asked.


“Hear what?” Elitheris questioned. Now most of the people on the boat were trying to listen. For what, they didn’t know; Eykit didn’t specify.


Fikkiil, taking his turn at the oars, said, “I’m not sure, but it sounds like voices, singing.”


His comment was greeted with frowns, as everyone strained their ears, trying to hear something…anything.


Elias’ eyes widened, and he grinned. “Yeah, I hear the voices too.” Then he paused, and added, “I think? Every time I think I’ve heard it, all I hear is the wind in the trees, or birdsong.” He shook his head.


Elitheris and Almë glanced at each other, during a lull in the waves of nausea Almë was feeling. Visitors to Elven villages had remarked that their forests seemed to be musical in some way, although the Elves didn’t sing all the time. They’d never really understood the comments, since to them, their forests were just forests.


But by this time, many of the crew were saying that they could hear something, just beyond conscious hearing. As if the glade they were passing was singing to their subconscious minds.


“Should we check it out?” Taid asked.


Ruby raised her hand, and croaked, “I’d love to get off this boat for a bit, at the very least,” before turning back to the railing and dry heaving again.


Almë managed a nod, which those closest to him were able to see, since he, like Ruby, was hanging over the bulwark of the boat.


“Well,” the Captain said, “it looks like a nice place to stop and all that, but we have a schedule to keep,”


“There is a force here,” Taid intoned. “There is something special about this place.”


The Captain peered at him. “Any idea what?”


“Not specifically, but it’s a higher mana zone. Who knows what it could be.” As he spoke, Taid could feel the mana level dropping. The boat was moving out of the area. “Sir, we need to stop and go back.”


Captain Gwendal thought about it for a moment, sighed, then took pity on his sick passengers, honoring Taid’s request. He aimed the boat at the bank near the grove, muttering, “These folks keep saying they are in a hurry, but certainly don’t act like it.” More loudly, he said to his crew, “We’ll camp here. Apparently this place is special.”


The crew, still trying to puzzle out the feeling that they heard music, but not being able to tell what kind of music it was or if they were just hearing things, grinned. Besides, that was a couple of hours of not rowing. They’d consider it “knocking off early”, and enjoy it for what it was. And if they discovered the answer to the mystery of the mystic music, that would be fine too.


The glade was about thirty meters across, with a few old, tall trees surrounded by younger trees and saplings. Moss grew all over, as did ferns and a few mushrooms. There wasn’t a lot of brushy undergrowth, which made making camp easier. There was plenty of shade to keep the strength of the sun from baking them, although there were enough breaks in the canopy to have slender beams of light dappling the deep green moss. A small brook burbled along one side of the glade, pouring its water into the larger river. Butterflies in jeweled colors flitted about the flowers, as did bees. Birdsong could be heard, in the distance, but the screeching of monkeys, the roars of the big cats, or the low rumblings of stun lizards couldn’t be heard at all.


Once they got into the glade, both Elitheris and Almë felt like they did when in an Elven settlement. There was a profound feeling of home, although neither could see any signs of an actual settlement, either presently, or in the past. To Taid, it felt similar to the way the monastery he trained in felt: a sense of peace, tranquility, and beauty.


Taid got the sense that it was sacred in some way, although to which god in particular, he couldn’t tell. If it even was sacred to any specific deity. It was possible that it was sacred to all of them, although that was unlikely, given what he knew of the gods. There was infighting, according to the religious documents he’d been told to read, and internal politics, and interpersonal conflicts between them. Depending upon who one talked to, it was possible that different aspects of the same deity warred with themselves.


It was well known that the same god was worshipped under different names, depending upon who was doing the worshipping. The closest Taid had to a personal patron deity was Aheru-Mazda, called Mithras by the Humans, Monk by the Orcs, and Malaeth by the Elves. And while they were all considered the same being, more or less, each aspect had some differences in power, sphere of influence, and general personality. The general consensus among philosophers was that the gods must be crazy; trying to keep track of who and what they were for whomever they were speaking to at the moment would be enough to drive anyone insane.


There were no standing stones, altars, or anything built by hands. It was an entirely natural place.


The camp was set up rather quickly, and everyone found places to put their sleeping furs. The carpet of moss made fairly comfortable mattresses, and even Eykit didn’t complain about sleeping out in the rough.


Taid found a shady spot, under a sapling whose leaves were growing almost in flat tiers, and knelt, head bowed. It had been a long time since he had prayed, and he had almost forgotten how. But in this place, here and now, it felt…right. He felt that after all this time, it was a good idea to check in, and maybe make Aheru-Mazda remember who he was. Although maybe it was really the other way around; Aheru-Mazda knew him, and it was Taid that needed to be reminded.


He stayed there for a long, long time.


Taid remembered how all of this started. He’d met Eykit, and shortly afterward Elitheris. And then a priest of Mithras had come, telling them how Mithras was sending him dreams. Those dreams had led to the ancient ruined Orc city, the pyramid temple, and the Servitor of Ghebbiloth buried beneath it.


Taid had been having dreams, too. Odd ones, ambiguous ones, ones that seemed to be trying to send messages, but were either disjointed or so metaphorical that their messages were obfuscated. Well, he thought, now’s a good a time as any to ask. Here goes.


He knew he didn’t need to speak aloud; the gods would hear him whether he spoke aloud or not. There was no need to broadcast his faith. He prayed silently, and only the stone could hear him. My Lord, are you there? It’s me, Taid. He got no answer, not that he expected one. Only on the rarest occasions would they actively interfere in mortal lives. And Taid wasn’t sure how important his mission was. To a deity, importance was relative and ambiguous at best. I’ve been having these dreams…is it you that is sending them to me?


It took a while before Ruby and Almë were able to shake off the worst of the effects of the seasickness, although they could start feeling themselves recovering almost as soon as they left the boat. But that could have been just their imaginations…or wishful thinking.


No one else prayed. Almë and Ruby, once recovered enough to do some mental work, studied the Lend Energy spell, her teaching, and him learning. Elitheris and Eykit just played with the dogs, tossing a knitted ball stuffed with yarn and fragrant leaves. It quickly got saturated in dog slobber, and needed to be occasionally wrung out, or rinsed in the little brook. The dogs appreciated the exercise; they’d been cooped up on the boat for entirely too long.


They didn’t feel the need to scout the perimeter, or put up the Mystic Mist. The place was so peaceful and serene that it just never occurred to anyone.


The crew took the first two watches; Taid said he’d do the third watch, and Elitheris volunteered for the dawn watch. Everyone got a good night’s sleep, even Eykit. While he would never admit it, the mossy mound that had supported his sleeping body was the best mattress he’d ever slept on.


Perhaps as a result of his prayers, Taid dreamed.


“I need you,” said the voice. It seemed to be emanating from a kaleidoscopic mass of twisting colors and shapes.

“Who are you?” Taid asked.


“You know who I am.” The colors shifted more towards yellows and oranges.


Taid did know.


“Where have you been?”


“I have always been here.” The colors pulsed, shifted, changed to greens and blues.


“You never answered my prayers.” It had been a while since Taid had prayed to anyone. It might have been back in his Imperial Army days. He couldn’t be sure.


“You just didn’t recognize the answers.” Reds, oranges. Swirls of yellow spinning off into nothingness.


“Why not?” An odd question, given the conversation. A part of Taid didn’t know what it meant, but dreams were like that.


“Because that’s not how we work.” Yellows again, and pinks, like a sunset.


“We?”


Silence. The colors dimmed, brightened, dimmed again, started going grayish as they lost saturation.


Taid continued, “What do you want?”


“For you to answer my prayers.” The colors darkened.


“What?”


“Come back to me….” The voice trailed off, as if it, or Taid, was moving away very fast. All went black.


Taid woke up. It was time for him to go on watch.


Skysday, Leafturn 31, 879 AFE



The night had been uneventful. No nightmares for Almë. No critters came to bother them, no sneak attacks in the night. No horde of zombies sent by rogue necromancers harassed them. Everyone woke cheerful and well-rested.

Taid didn’t talk about his dream. He wasn’t ready to share that, or the previous dreams, with anyone. But he was starting to think that he knew what they might be about.




It was a cooler day, a very comfortable 21° C, despite being mostly clear. A few cumulus clouds scudded towards the mountains, flowing around the peaks and appearing to shred as they did. There was little wind, and the air wasn’t as saturated with moisture as had been in earlier in their trip. It was a fine day to be on a boat.


The sail was reefed; there was little to no wind at ground level, regardless of what was happening at higher altitudes.


Around midmorning, the river widened and split, flowing around small islands. The river was shallower here, and twice the boat scraped the pebbles of the riverbed as it made its way around one of the small islets. They, like the banks, were a cluster of vegetation, the trees at the edges leaning over the river, trying to get the sunlight that the nearby trees shaded. As a result, in many places it was like sailing through a green tunnel, and a few times Fikkiil had to climb the mast to move branches out of the way or cut them off completely.


A little later, the river started to get more rocky, and the boat had to make some precise maneuvers to avoid crashing into the large boulders. The rowing crew was fully engaged, some actually rowing, the others using their oars to keep from being dashed on the rocks.


There were some times when a shudder ran through the boat, as the keel scraped on a submerged rock. Captain Gwendal winced every time this happened.


It didn’t help that with the rocks blocking some of the river, the water sped up as it made its way past them. This increased current tired out the rowing crew, and made going upriver slow going. Captain Gwendal was rotating rowing crews every ten minutes. And even that wasn’t really working; he put all eight crew members on the oars to try to make headway.


Fifteen minutes later….”Gods damn it! Shit!” He pushed the rudder over to make a turn to port. “Reverse port!” he called to his crew. “Four on the oars, the others fend off the gods damned rocks! Turn this boat around!”


The boat swung around, pivoting in place, but still getting pushed by the current of the river.


“What’s happening, Captain?” Taid asked. He usually sat on the lee end of the pile of barley sacks, near the stern of the ship.


“I made a wrong turn. We were going up the wrong river. Stupid.” The overhanging trees and the myriad of slipways between the islets had confused him, and what he thought was the river had been a tributary instead.


He gave a rueful chuckle. “I was wondering why it was so damned rocky. I hadn’t remembered that from before. Now I know.”


“So we have to go back?”


“Yes. Although at least it’s with the current, instead of against it. It won’t take us long to get back to the main river.” He muttered “Gods damn it!” again.


It wasn’t long until they were back on the Mahimlêm Id-Abshad River, heading upstream. This time, he made sure he was going the right way when navigating around all of the islets. The river, with all of its twists and turns, was going in a generally southwestern direction.


And, once back on the main river, it wasn’t long until they could see signs of the riverbanks being groomed. At first, it was mostly just the brush being cleared, but later some sections were actually laid stone, sloping back at about a 45° angle, like a canal.


As they came around a sweeping curve, they could see a square stone tower, sitting atop a blocky building, rising above the canopy of the forest around it. Near its foot, at the riverbank, was a small, but serviceable dock. At the top of the tower was a tall mast, with four arms with paddles hinged to it, connected by wires. As they watched, the paddles started moving, pausing at certain positions before shifting again. It was a semaphore station, relaying news of their arrival upriver, likely to other towers.


They could see another tower far upriver, tall above the canopy of vegetation, and soon its semaphore started moving.


The tower had windows, and from one of them, they could see a bearded figure staring back at them. The Dwarf in the tower waved. Captain Gwendal waved back.

by Keith Thomas

They sailed upriver, past the tower with its little dock. “Is this part of Dwarfchat?” Almë asked the captain.



“No, but also yes.” Captain Gwendal grinned at Almë’s confusion. “We are still about two days out of Dwarfchat, but we are entering the area where they have some control. We should start seeing some settlements, and Dwarfchat has had shelters for travelers built as well. These towers that you see are basically an early warning system, so they know who is coming to town.”


“We’re almost there!” Taid said excitedly. He was getting tired of being on the boat, on a journey that seemed interminable.


He had to admit to himself, however, that the more mountainous terrain that they had been traveling through felt almost like home. Port Karn was nice enough, he figured, but those little hills that made the Altasirya River valley in that area undulate were, well, minuscule bumps. Hardly worth climbing. But the Zirinibar Mountains were at least mountains, and worthy of the name. Tall, snow-capped, beautiful mountains. Almost as homey as the Melêkurâd Mountains, where he grew up.


Perhaps taller, actually. The Melêkurâd Mountains were a coastal range, and while reasonably tall at 3500 meters, weren’t as high as the Zirinibar Mountains were. He estimated their height at around 4500 meters, perhaps taller. He grinned. Port Karn lacked a verticality that he thought was important for any civilized city.


They could see what amounted to a chain of tall towers, each with a semaphore mast on the top. Each one was able to see at least the towers to either side of the chain, in order to relay the messages from one end of the chain to the other. While most of the towers were near the river, some were not, being set back on higher ground to increase their visibility.


About every 15 kilometers or so was a rectangular structure built out of bricks and wood. It was open on one side, and about seven meters on a side. At the center was a fire pit, with a draft hood and chimney built into the roof above it. Along the sides were benches for seating, although the rest of the interior space was for laying out bedrolls. These were the travelers’ way stations, built by the rulers of the duchy. They had a shed roof of wood shingles, often covered in moss. The open side faced the river, and there was a small dock available for boat traffic to tie up to.

As they passed by the way stations, some had tarps draped across the front, normally open side. This cut wind and provided a bit of privacy. When there was a semaphore watchtower, there was also a way station.


Elias mentioned, ”If you need any traveling supplies, the towers have small shops available to sell them to you. Prices are premium, however. But when you really need something, they are there.”


“Like what kinds of traveling supplies?” Elitheris asked.


“The usual. Food, tarps, blankets, tents, candles, rope. That sort of thing.” He eyed Elitheris’ quiver at her hip. “Arrows and bolts as well, and maybe a small selection of knives. But they don’t usually have weaponry.”


“Good to know.”


Almë talked to the captain. “Sir, can you let us know when we are about a day out from Dwarfchat?”


Captain Gwendal shrugged. “Sure. What for?”


Almë just smiled. He had a plan, and it didn’t involve everyone going into Dwarfchat, at least, not immediately.


Just before evening, they stopped at a way station, tying the boat to the wooden dock that stuck out into the river. They made their way into the structure, and Erven and Elias went up onto the roof to access the eye bolts that had been screwed into the crossbeam across the open side. Along with Jory and Wynnstan, they laced up some tarps, allowing them to hang down like tent flaps.


Alexa and Fikkiil went through the rear door of the structure, finding that along the back side were some small sheds, filled with firewood. Carrying an armload of wood each, they piled the wood by the circular fire pit at the center of the room, and got the campfire going. Soon the smells of roasting meat and vegetables filled the air.


Almë, after a bit of seasickness recovery, scouted around the structure, using the spell of Plant Vision to see through the underbrush. He saw nothing of concern.


Taid waited a bit until everyone was inside the structure to cast his spell of Mystic Mist. It probably wasn’t necessary, but his military training and sense of paranoia made him do it anyway. Besides, it certainly couldn’t hurt. The mist filled the structure, flowing out around it to a distance of a couple of meters beyond its footprint. Once the spell casting finished, the mist, momentarily visible to those within it, disappeared, leaving only a slight opalescent sheen on the objects within it. To anyone approaching, however, it would be a dense fog, obscuring even the structure itself.


They still set up watches; Taid took the first watch, Almë the second, Eykit the third, and Elitheris the fourth. Night was uneventful.


Kynetsday, Leafturn 32, 879 AFE (Day 16 since Lytan’s Mill)


Day broke on a clear blue sky, and it was relatively warm, even early in the morning. The air was still, with no wind to speak of. Erven climbed back up onto the roof, freeing their tarps as part of breaking down camp. Breakfast was porridge, with some chopped dried fruit sprinkled atop it. Once everyone had been served, Alexa doused the fire. Fikiil, seeing that there were four pieces of firewood left over from the night before, gathered those up and put them back out onto the pile in the wood shed. They rolled their bedrolls up, folded the tarps, and got back onto the boat. Captain Gwendal put six people on the oars; the still day didn’t allow the use of the sail, and he was really wanting to get to Dwarfchat with his cargo.


It was the middle of the day when they got to the Locks. It was a combination of river lock mechanism and fortress. It was large, imposing, and constructed of stone. Its main purpose was to raise boats up to the level of the river on the other side; the Locks had been built at the location of a waterfall. Historically, boats had to be portaged up a pathway that climbed up the side of the falls to the upper level; but this wasn’t conducive to river-based trade or travel, so the Locks were built.


The total change in height was about ten meters, from entering the Locks to exiting them, with several stages. As they approached, they could see siege engines at the top of the battlements. Taid could see ballistae, repeating ballistae, and some cranes. The cranes were anti-ship devices, rather than cargo handling ones. The were armed with what appeared to be large, weighted grappling hooks, designed to be released to crash through the top decking of ships, hook onto something, and then the crane lifted it from the water, stopping its movement and creating a makeshift barricade to prevent any other ships from going forward.


Given that there hadn’t been any wars in the area since the initial Tondene expansion in 8 BFE, almost a decade before the Empire ever existed, they were likely rarely used. River pirates and demonstrations were likely the only time they saw service. But the personnel stationed at the Locks, mostly, but not exclusively, military, took very good care of the equipment in their charge. There was no doubt that the siege weaponry was in top condition.

As the Dossit Float waited for the locks to cycle, those on board could see figures moving along the battlements. Most were, of course, Dwarves, but some were members of other races.

“In case you are wondering,” Artur said to the passengers, “the locks pump water to and from the lock sections. Most is done by windmill, filling a reservoir. But on days like today, it’s animals in wheels doing the work. Of course, filling the chambers only requires moving the water from upstream into the chambers lower down. That’s the easy part. Pumping out the water is the trickier bit.”


“Sometimes,” Erven added, “people have to do time in the wheels, if they are being disciplined for some wrong-doing.”


“Sucks to be them,” Fikkiil said. “That’s hard work. Even if no ship is coming, filling the reservoirs is always useful.” He looked at Almë and Ruby. “You two would hate it. It can be tricky getting used to walking in one of those, and the forward view always looks like you’re rising, when everything else tells you you’re falling. Even people who don’t usually get seasick can feel ill on those things.”


“So,” Ruby said, swallowing some bile that threatened to come up, “we shouldn’t piss off the people in charge of the Locks.”


Fikkiil winked. “Right!”


“I guess I should be glad we’re staying on the boat, then. Bleh.”


“They tend to keep people on their boats when they pass through the Locks,” Erven said. “They don’t often let people off to run around.”


The doors slid aside, two great wooden panels about four meters wide and five high each, exposing the first chamber. The panels, they saw as they rowed the boat into position, were over 30cm thick, caulked with black tar. Once the boat was in place, they closed behind them, and water flowed in from several pipes.


It took an hour to fill, at which point the doors in front of them opened. They moved into the second chamber, and the process repeated itself. All told, there were four chambers, and each took about an hour to cycle. It was late afternoon when they finally make their way through it. They made camp at the next way station.


They did their usual pre-camp protections, and Taid, Almë, and Elitheris stood some very boring watches, which were the best kind as far as they were concerned.


Jyprasday, Leafturn 33, 879 AFE



Whether it was from the increased altitude, or just the vagaries of the weather, it was a cooler day than the previous day. The banks of the river seemed more regular, with an increased frequency of the stone sided banks. It was also likely that the river was dredged regularly, both to keep silt from blocking it and to keep vegetation out of the way.


There was more traffic on the river as well, mostly small fishing boats, although there were a few small boats carrying cargo. The reason for this became evident a bit later, as they started to see clusters of buildings forming small agricultural settlements with farmed plots.


Unlike the fields surrounding Port Karn, these plots seemed to be in grids of evenly sized fields, almost geometrically precise.


“Is that a Dwarf thing?” Eykit asked. “The regular fields, that is.”


“Yes,” Taid said. When he’d first seen fields in areas not primarily Dwarven, he’d thought them ugly, messy, and random. “Dwarves like things more precise and even. Symmetrical. Not messy.”


“Huh. Never thought of farms as ‘messy’ before. Except in all the usual mucky ways, that is.”


There were even some actual hamlets as they progressed. Many of the folk in the hamlets were not Dwarven; although Dwarves made up about fifteen percent of the people that lived in them. Captain Gwendal mentioned that most Dwarves prefer the tighter living quarters of cities, rather than spread out in the hinterlands. Taid agreed.


Dwarves tended to have agoraphobia, most having lived in close quarters underground. It wasn’t that there wasn’t space underground; the tunnels they made into their homes extended quite far, being the result of various creatures and processes. But defending those habitable tunnels from those various creatures meant that they didn’t spread out any farther than they had to.


The mountains were honeycombed with tunnels, chambers, caves, and caverns, interconnected in multiple ways. Dwarven maps of the caves, where they existed, looked like abstract sculptures; drawings couldn’t take all three dimensions into account in any meaningful way. It was often done anyway, with cavern maps being collections or stacks of images. But natural caverns didn’t stay limited to specific levels, and the drawings were often difficult to read.


They sailed until the sun set, and twilight had begun. They stopped at a village, with a decent sized wharf on the river side, and rows of farmed fields on the landward sides. Tying up, one of the fishermen, presumably a local, said, “Welcome to Makarful Id-Aban!”


The land was primarily wooded hills, and all they could see of the village was a few houses. The rest of the village was likely on the other side of the ridge, out of their sight. They could see a way station near the wharf area, however.


“Thanks,” Elias replied. “It’s nice being back in civilization.”


The fisherman, a Dwarf, grinned behind his bushy beard, apparently appreciating having the small village called “civilization”. “My cousin is the mayor here. I’ll let her know we’ve got visitors.”


The crew tied up the boat, and everyone started gathering their gear in order to debark. On a hill nearby they could see a way station. It was already furnished with two large tarps, tied up like sails at the front support beam. They could see ropes, one for each tarp, that ran down to some cleats on the vertical supports. Tying and untying the ropes would control how far the tarps were lowered.


“Hey, Taid,” Eykit said. “What’s Makarful Id-Aban mean?”


“Broken Stone,” Taid replied. “It’s Northern Khuzdul.”


Eykit frowned at him. He knew it was a Dwarvish name. He wasn’t stupid. “Gee, I never would have guessed it was a Khuzdul name.” His sarcasm was evident.


From the people they could see moving about the village, most of them were Dwarves, over eighty percent. The rest were a collection of Humans and Orcs, with a family of Goblins and another of Hobbits. They appeared to be almost exclusively farmers, likely supporting Dwarfchat and the Undercities.


The village wasn’t all that large, and the fisherman must have been quick. Before they had even finished up setting up their camp, a wagon pulled by a mule came trundling down the graveled path from the village proper to the wharf. The driver, a Dwarf, wore a woven farmer’s hat, and his wagon was filled with baskets of freshly harvested vegetables. A pair of cages even held some chickens.


He was a welcome sight to people that had been eating only ship’s rations for the last eightday or so.


“Hello there!” the farmer called from the seat. He stood, stepped over the partition into the back bed, and opened the hinged back panel, letting it drop to form a counter. “You guys sick of ship’s rations yet? I’ve got some freshly picked vegetables, fruits, and grains, chickens, eggs, and some cheese. And not terribly expensive.” He grinned, knowing how higher the prices would be in Dwarfchat.


Eykit eyed those chickens. They appeared healthy and plump, and he could almost taste their drumsticks. The cheeses and eggs looked good too, and the others, especially Ruby, would like the plants. Their preservation box was empty, save for some herbs and leaves.


“Oh, we’d most definitely like some of what you’ve got in that wagon,” he said. And the haggling began. Eykit was a good haggler.


“It was my turn to be grocer today,” the Dwarf said, “When visitors show up, the locals donate their crops and someone goes and tries to sell it. So you are getting the best produce from a dozen different farms.”


In the end, they refilled their preservation box with about two kilos of chicken and cheese, and 3 kilos of vegetables. They also got enough for the evening’s meal.


“The baker’s house is that building, over there,” the farmer said, pointing to a two story building not too far into the village proper. And two doors down and across the street is the tavern, where you can get some ale.”


“Ale. That sounds great.” Taid licked his lips.


“Klyne makes several kinds. I think he has a malty dark ale and a lighter, brighter ale at the moment. He might have some of his blonde ale left, too, if you want something light.”


“Okay, you can stop now. I’m convinced.” Taid was now very aware that he was thirsty. And an ale sounded really, really good to him. He turned to the rest of the people in the shelter. “I’ll head into town and get some bread and beer.”


“I’ll go with him,” Elias said. “Help him carry it back.” Taid nodded, and they set off.


Taid got two days worth of bread and beer, enough to get them to Dwarfchat, with a maybe a bit extra, for a relatively inexpensive price. All told, for everything, they paid only $65 for the all of the food, beer, and bread.


That night, after a meal of roasted chicken, vegetable stew, freshly baked bread, and decent ale, Ruby started teaching Almë and Elitheris the spell of Recover Energy.


At first, Elitheris was a bit confused, because Recover Energy was less a spell, and more of a state of mind. It was a technique that allowed a mage to “rest faster”. But once she got past that initial hurdle, she didn’t have much trouble. Once again, she wished that she could have had a teacher in those early days of learning magic, on her own, out of books. Having an actual teacher made a big difference.


Velisday, Leafturn 34, 879 AFE (Day 18)



At dawn, Erven woke and stoked the fire, getting it ready for a pot of porridge. Bleary-eye crew woke slowly, packing up their gear while the water boiled and the grain cooked. The passengers woke as well, and got their gear ready to load onto the boat.


Alexa salted the porridge, and put in a generous dollop of butter. She then ladled it out to everyone. There was a sack of raisins available as well, to those who wanted them. Fikkiil and Eykit passed on the mushy grains, chewing some beef jerky instead.


“First thing I’m getting when we get to town is coffee,” Elias said.


Artur nodded. “Sounds delicious. If you don’t mind, I’ll join you.”


A quarter hour later and they were on the river, heading towards Dwarfchat. The day started off with dark clouds, and it wasn’t long before the rain really started coming down. The tarps were tied into place, and the day was dark, dreary, wet, and warm.


The dreary, wet day was even worse for Almë and Ruby. Their seasickness came on strong, and they spent the day hanging over the bulwark, getting drenched by the downpour. They took some comfort in the fact that the rain felt cool as it poured onto them.


The clouds started clearing before midday, and blue sky windows started appearing in the clouds. Through one of them, Taid, Eykit, and Elitheris saw something large fly by, reptilian and with leathery wings, headed westward towards the mountains. They only got a brief glimpse before the clouds obscured it, but all of them could see that it was a dragon of some kind.


Elitheris’ Elven eyes were able to determine that it had four legs and a pair of wings. It was a rare great drake, a fearsome creature rumored to have high intellect and magic powers. Sunlight glinted off of shiny bluish silver scales as its wings propelled it forward.


“Oh my,” she said, awed, and not a little terrified. “It’s a great drake! Four legs, wings, long neck.”

Kalygos by Allagar

Everyone knew about dragons. They were one of the favorite “monsters” to have in tales. There were several types; ranging from the wyrms, the wyvern-like drakes, to the great drakes. Elitheris had even had the opportunity to see a faerie dragon, creatures about the size of a man with butterfly wings and mind-altering pheromones.


But the great drakes were great for a reason. They were an old race, and reclusive, smart, dangerous, and magical. Only the greatest of heroes ever took one on, and even then the outcome was hardly assured. Even the most romantic of stories had the hero winning only by trickery, not force of arms. A sword looked mighty small compared to the vast bulk of a great drake. It was also rumored that they lived longer than Elves, so much so that they called Elves “ephemerals”.


The crew looked alarmed, but as the dragon didn’t seem interested in them, they relaxed. “I think it was simply traveling, not hunting,” Alexa said. “Too high up for hunting, especially through this cloud cover.”


“You don’t think it can see through clouds?” Wynnstan said. He sounded incredulous. “If it wanted to see us, it could have.”


Alexa shrugged, conceding the point. She didn’t know either way. But a boat on a river would have been a pretty easy target to breathe fire upon. Or lightning. Or whatever that particular dragon breathed. Stories about breath weapons were varied.


Elitheris kept looking up into the sky, checking to see if the dragon returned. And part of her, the curious, awed part, sort of wanted another glimpse of it. It was rare to see one, and despite how dangerous they could be, they were still awe inspiring.


A little while later, they came around a long sweeping curve of the river, and on the southern bank was a town. Not a hamlet, not a village, but an actual town.


“That,” Captain Gwendal stated, “is Kibil-nâla. Up ahead about two kilometers is Dwarfchat. Kibil-nâla is a farming settlement that supports Dwarfchat.”


On both sides of the river were farmed fields, mostly harvested, but still showing signs of activity. The town was surrounded by them, and a road lead from Kibil-nâla to Dwarfchat along the riverbank. The river was almost crowded with small craft, shuttling between the fields and the town, and from Kibil-nâla to Lower Dwarfchat. To the west, on a hill that overlooked the whole area, was a large fortress.


“What’s that fortress?” Taid asked, indicating the hill.


“Um,” Captain Gwendal said, trying to remember its name. Khuzdul names could be difficult to pronounce and remember. “Githlîn something. Githlîn Zirik’ag I think.”


“Fortress Sharp Eye? That’d be Githlîn Zirik’azg.”


“Sounds about right. I’m not good with Northern Khuzdûl.” The captain shrugged.


“Local city guard?”


“Nah, that’s the Tondene Imperial Army garrison. Civil Patrol has stations within the city, as does the Mountain Rangers.” Seeing the frown of confusion on Taid’s face, he added, “They are like the Rural Watch in Port Karn.”


“Ah.”


Different duchies handled their militaries and paramilitaries in different ways. The Duchy of Antonian, of which the Port Karn area was a part of, had, like many other duchies, something called the Rural Watch to protect its outlying areas. Dwarfchat, however, was in the Duchy of Delvingdeep, and they had the Mountain Rangers to protect the areas above and between their settlements.




Almë looked up from the bulwark, where he’d spent the morning feeling like shit. “Captain,” he croaked, “most of us will get off here in this town.”


Captain Gwendal frowned. “I thought you were going to Dwarfchat? That’s upstream another couple of kilometers.”


“I know. Ruby and Eykit will continue on to Dwarfchat with you. The rest of us are getting off here.”


The bearded captain shrugged. He didn’t really care; the price of passage had been paid, and if some of his passengers wanted off a little early, who was he to question it?


“That’s fine.” He swung the tiller over, guiding the boat to an open quay. There was a bit of delicate maneuvering as he steered the boat between some others, and the boat bumped gently against the bollards hanging from the stone dock.


Artur and Jory hopped out, and secured the boat to the dock. The boarding ramps were put into place, and those getting off did so, Taid leading Wilbur up the internal ramp and down the external one. The ramp flexed under Wilbur’s weight, but held. Once on the stone dock, Elitheris, Almë, and Taid loaded their gear onto Wilbur, including the preservation box they had brought with them, the larger one that they had found in the abandoned Elven town, the various branches they had collected, and their standard gear. Wilbur was able to easily carry it all.


Kibil-nâla was a farming town much like Donnington or Meke Larnis, except that instead of random fields farmed every which way, the fields looked centrally planned and geometrically precise. The farmland had been carved from the surrounding forest, and was growing mainly grains and vegetables. But there were orchards of fruit trees and tree nuts here and there as well. From there they could see the river end at a lake and a pair of waterfalls, each an impressive 140’ tall (43m) or more.


Ruby and Eykit, with their gear, stayed on board the Dossit Float. The dogs were going with those passengers getting off, and Ruby gave Norolind a tearful hug, telling him she’d be back soon. He licked her face, but suffered Almë guiding him away from his companion person. Mr. Wiggles, for his part, was eager to get off the boat and sniff everything and everyone on the wharf. Fortunately, this didn’t result in any problems; the people being sniffed were, apparently, used to dogs, so they let him, only flinching a bit at the strange dog coming to say hi.


Once the passengers were offloaded, Jory and Artur untied the boat and jumped aboard. The boat drifted upstream under the power of the oars. Elitheris, Taid, and Almë watched them go. They would head into the city, and do a bit of scouting. The rest of them would find a place to make camp outside the city, and hopefully away from any prying eyes. They didn’t want to show up in Dwarfchat as a group, and attract unwanted attention.


They weren’t even sure that Dwarfchat was the right place to find Kallia. They were almost certain, but they needed to find the Mountainstream Inn to be sure that this is where Kallia had been operating when she abducted that big Orc. Taid, a Dwarf, wouldn’t really stand out that much, unless people noticed his snow-white hair and odd colored eyes. Ruby had the ability to turn into a falcon, and scout the city from above. Eykit was a natural in a city, and even though Dwarfchat was not familiar to him, his ability to get along, chat up, and schmooze, combined with his streetwise skills, would enable him to blend in as well.


The plan was to find a campsite, with Taid moving on to Dwarfchat from there. Of the three people in the city, only he knew where the Elves and the animals would be staying. And while they were all quite capable individuals, not being able to easily support each other was risky.


Once in the city, they could lay low, and pick up what information about Kallia that they could. They didn’t know how much power—necromantic or political—that Kallia had. It was possible that she was one of its rulers, and had the resources of the city to draw upon. So caution was key. If she knew that they were coming, they didn’t want to make it too easy for her to spot them. Hence the party split, with some going into town, and others staying away.


With the exception of a ferry terminal and what appeared to be a tavern, Kibil-nâla was built on the southern bank of the river. It was a farming community, consisting mostly of residences and the small number of vital services. A main caravan road ran through the middle of it, locally called Main Street. All around the town were tilled fields, with a smattering of orchards. There was a coppiced woodlot, but most of the needed lumber came from the forest that still surrounded the town.


The wharf was just south of the ferry, and a street ran along side before turning into the town proper. They passed a small tavern, and while an ale sounded good, they didn’t stop. Turning at the corner, the buildings became exclusively residences, built shoulder to shoulder and towering three stories high. They were of stone, with tile roofs; their windows were a combination of glass panes and oilpaper, depending upon the house. It seemed to be about half and half. Some houses had both, as if they were upgrading their windows to glass over time.

Ahead of them the street terminated at a cross street in a T intersection. At the corner was another tavern, the Column and Rocks, but again, they didn’t stop, but chuckled when the sign came into view. It was most definitely a stylized drawing of the male genitalia.


The cross street was Main Street, and looking back to the east they could see a mix of residences and shop fronts. To the west, it followed the river, with fields on one side, and a row of trees along the riverbank on the other. They headed towards Dwarfchat, on the lookout for a place to make a camp.


In many places, the caravan road provided a good view of the river. As they walked, leading Wilbur and with Norolind and Mr. Wiggles ranging up ahead of them taking in the new smells, they could see various kinds of small boats going up and down the river. Most used paddles or oars, but there were a few sails as well. After a little while, the fields to their left became forest, until, about 300 meters later, more fields could be seen, going all the way to Dwarfchat itself. At this distance, they could barely see it; a grayish smudge in front of a steep slope. Almë and Elitheris could both see that Dwarfchat was made up of two sections, a lower section along the lake, and an upper section above, on top of the cliff. Even from this distance, some three or four kilometers, they could see the pair of waterfalls cascading into the lake.


They moved off the road and into the forest at the edge of the fields. They didn’t want to be too close to the fields, as that would mean more possible visitors. They didn’t need anyone knowing they were there, if they could help it. They backtracked a little, into the forested lands between the Kibil-nâla farms and those of Dwarfchat proper.


The land was hilly, uneven, and thick forested. It only took an hour to find a nice secluded ravine that would hide them unless someone stumbled directly upon them. And as long as they didn’t have a fire, they could remain unseen, for the most part.


Once they had selected a spot to camp, it was time for Taid to head into Dwarfchat. He left Wilbur with Elitheris and Almë, taking only his pack and Maggie. And his piece of ebony branch, which he wanted to use as a new shaft for Maggie. And he figured that Dwarfchat would have a weapon maker or two that could do that for him. And if anyone asked why he was in Dwarfchat, replacing the shaft of his polearm was his excuse. And it was true, too.


Eykit and Ruby


The boat rowed upriver, the lake and Dwarfchat appearing in front of them.

Lower Dwarfchat occupied the southern bank of the little lake that the two thundering waterfalls cascaded into. They could see buildings built along the edge of the cliff, affording them a great view of the lake and river valley.

As they approached the lake, they could see a caravan making its way along the road that paralleled the river, obviously one of the merchants here to make some money or perhaps to go farther, into the Dwarven Undercities.


The area around Dwarfchat was mountainous; it was situated in the foothills at the edge of the Zirinibar Mountains. There was a major caravan road leading from the lowlands up to the city; from there it split into two major routes. One went to Barazinbar, the other went to Nogrod via a main Dwarven tunnel called a “causeway”. Those two undercities were the main routes into the complex of tunnels, caves, and causeways that made up the Dwarven Underground Civilization in the Zirinibar Mountains. The other main trade route was the river, which handled about one fifth of the trade the caravan road did. While faster, it was also less inhabited, which made it more dangerous to travel.


The main caravan route basically ran from Port Karn to Lytan’s Mill, then along a river to Sheepshear, then overland to Fleetmilk, and thence to Dwarfchat. All along the route were small villages and hamlets, providing plenty of opportunity for caravans to trade goods. It’s a two eightday trip from Lytan’s Mill to Dwarfchat via the river, and once outside of two days from Lytan’s Mill until about four days from Dwarfchat, it’s all wilderness, with no interim opportunities to trade goods or take on supplies. It’s primarily used for cargoes that are needed as soon as possible, that don’t have the time to use the safer path.


Dwarfchat was a town that the Dwarves used as a meeting point to keep outsiders out of the Dwarven Undercities. It had a population of over six thousand people, mostly Dwarves, but there was a sizable population of Humans as well. There were much smaller populations of Hobbits, Goblins, Orcs, and Elves. There were even some resident Aarakocra, mostly as go-betweens for the small number of Skyfolk Eyries that lived in the Zirinibar Mountains.


Dwarfchat itself was in two parts: the main city sat above an escarpment, straddling a pair of rivers that cascaded 140 feet down a pair of waterfalls to a small lake below. On the southern shore of that lake was the other half of the city, Lower Dwarfchat. The harbor was located in the lake, and most of the area was commercial/industrial, with a lot of warehouses, trading houses, and other services related to the river trade. Dwarfchat was the main eastern embarkation point for the goods of the set of Undercities that lay under the Zirinibar Mountains.


Lower Dwarfchat seems to be mainly large warehouses, with some residential blocks thrown in here and there, mostly rather poor and run down. Upper Dwarfchat wasn’t really visible, with the exception of a few nice houses peeking over the cliffs.


Captain Gwendal let Alexa guide the boat to the dock. He stood at the prow, scanning the wharfs, looking for his contact to hand over his cargo. As the boat slid smoothly against the hempen bollards with a wet squeaking noise, Elias and Itura hopped to the dock and tied the boat off, securing the ropes in the cleats.


Gwendal turned to the two remaining passengers. The smoother water of the lake had helped Ruby quite a bit, lessening her seasickness to only moderate levels, and she was able to actually converse. “Here we are. Dwarfchat. Or, rather, Lower Dwarfchat.” He pointed up at the waterfalls and the cliff face. “Up there is Upper Dwarfchat.”


“Thank you, Captain, for getting us here,” Ruby said, still feeling queasy, but managing to hide her discomfort.


“Sorry you were sick so often.”


“Not your fault, Captain. Apparently, when the gods designed my body, they didn’t think I’d ever need to go onto the water. I’m hoping that maybe I got some other benefits that helps to balance it out.” She gave a weak grin.


“I hope so, for your sake. Careful going over the boarding planks.”


“Before I go, I was wondering if you knew of any places to stay or get a room?”


He thought about it for a moment. “There are caravanserai around the outskirts of Lower Dwarfchat, where the caravans can park and their people housed. They are like large inns. They usually have a tavern there as well, to provide victuals. There aren’t a lot of places for caravans to stay in Upper Dwarfchat.”


“So it’s easy to find a nice place to stay?”


“Fairly easy, yes. There are lot of caravanserai to choose from.”


“Is there a special place for Hobbits?”


Captain Gwendal frowned. Being a Human, he’d never really thought about it; there was a certain amount of privilege that went with being Human, that they didn’t seem to realize. “No, not really. No Hobbit ghettos, if that’s what you mean.”


“Not really. More like places that Hobbits might prefer because the food is better, or there are more things on the menu, or the beds are small and cozy, that sort of thing.”


Captain Gwendal thought about it. He was saved by Fikkill, who’d overheard the conversation. “There is a Hobbit-owned caravanserai in town. Hyachinth’s place. Don’t know if it’s what you are looking for, but if anyone caters special to Hobbits, it might be her. Hyacinth is the owner, and primary cook of the place.”


“Thanks again, Captain.” She grabbed her pack and staff, and moved towards the boarding ramp.


Eykit smiled at the Captain. “I, on the other hand, had a fine trip. Thanks. It was an adventure!”


Now it was the captain’s turn to give a weak smile. “It was that, wasn’t it? Haven’t had that much of an…exciting trip in a very long time. Glad we all made it through it. We might not have, you know.”


“So the trips you make on this route aren’t normally that, uh, busy?”


“No. Some, sure. It’s wilderness, and there are always wild creatures and such to be wary of. But this was something else.” He shook his head. “Not what I was expecting, that’s for sure.” He paused a moment, then continued, “I think we’ll avoid this run for a while, and let it cool down.”


“Yeah, but don’t you have to go back down river?”


“Sure, but that will only take about a third of the time. We’ll be traveling with the current, no against it. It’ll likely take us five days or so to make the trip back to Lytan’s Mill. Although I’d like to do it in four.” He looked around, at his bustling crew as they prepared to offload the cargo. “And I don’t think my crew will mind if I push them a bit on the oars.”


Eykit smiled again, his pointed teeth glinting. “No, I don’t think they will. After everything that’s happened, they’ll likely want to get back to Lytan’s Mill as quickly as they can. You might have to keep them from rowing all night.”


Captain Gwendal laughed, his head tilted back. “Oh ho! You might have a point! But we can’t go blind, even with Itura and Fikkiil acting as our eyes in the dark. Besides, I’m planning on pushing them hard enough that they will be glad when the work day is done.”


Eykit stuck out his hand, and Captain Gwendal took it, shaking it. “Be careful, Eykit. I don’t know what you guys have planned, but I suspect it involves either danger, or something criminally risky. It’s none of my business, but look after yourself.”


“Thanks,” Eykit replied, a little surprised at the sentiment. He took the warning in the spirit it was given. “I’ll be careful.”


The Goblin followed the Hobbit off of the boat. They stood on the quay, looking around at the bustling activity. Several dockworkers were busy loading cargo onto a ship nearby, a line of wagons waiting to be unloaded. The shouts of workers dominated the air, drowning out the cries of seagulls and other birds. Ruby saw a flash of brown which might have been a rat disappearing between two crates.


They could see two ways into Upper Dwarfchat. One was a switchbacked road, and there was almost a continuous stream of wagons, pack animals, and people walking it. The other was a mechanical lift, that utilized a set of large wheels with aurochs in them. The wheels, turned by the efforts of the large steers, raised and lowered an elevator on a ratcheting track. It wasn’t fast, but it saved a lot of walking.


One thing that they could see immediately, especially Eykit, was that the windows were all glass. No waxed or oiled paper windows at all. Ruby was used to such things, having grown up in Adayn, where glass was used for windows as well. Only the poorest houses in Adayn had oilpaper windows, and those were in the shantytown districts that no one talked about. Being employed by the government, she lived and worked in buildings that had glass windows. She’d been amazed that windows could be made of oiled paper. She’d never even imagined such a thing until she’d been sent on her mission abroad. She’d always just assumed that windows were glass.


Both of them could overhear the scuttlebutt of the dock workers. Lately Dwarfchat had been suffering from disappearances. This caught their attention, and Eykit’s ears swiveled like a cat’s, picking up distant conversations. He relayed what he heard to Ruby.


“There have been disappearances, happening for the last several eightdays. All the caravaners are nervous, and no one goes out alone, especially at night. The Civil Patrol, whatever that is, is looking into it.”


“Well, shit,” Ruby said, “It sounds like we are in the right place, then.”


“The dockworkers are making sure every newly arrived boat knows what’s happening,” Eykit continued, concentrating on what he was able to hear over the hubbub of the docks. “Huh. Captain Gwendal just restricted his crew. They can’t go into town in groups smaller than three. Interesting.”


Eykit paused, listening. “Oh shit,” he said, “there is an increased Civil Patrol presence. They are really cracking down, even on small offenses. They got some reinforcements from other towns.”


“Well, my green friend, you’d better keep your fingers in your own pockets.”


“Hey, I gave up pickpocketing a long time ago. Besides, to do it right requires a crew.”


Ruby hadn’t really thought about it, but made a note to ask him about it later. She’d always had assumed it was a solo endeavor. But then, she was used to court and the halls of government. Bureaucracy she understood. Street crime really wasn’t on her radar.


She turned towards a dock worker, who was rolling a barrel from a wagon to a boat’s loading ramp. “Excuse me, sir,” she asked the bearded Human, “do the disappearances happen during the day, or the night.”


“What?” the man replied, a bit confused about what he was being asked. He’d been paying attention to his work, not the rumors flying around. “Uh, the disappearances? Night time, I think.” He wiped his brow, sweaty in the heat of the early afternoon summer day.


“And have they happened in specific parts of town? Is there anywhere that I should avoid? I’d like to stay safe.”


The man frowned, thinking. “I don’t think they’ve been happening in any particular place. All over, from what I’ve heard. Just don’t go out alone, and the larger the group, the safer you’ll be.”


“I’m traveling alone, so I am trying to stay safe,” Ruby said.


“Well, don’t travel alone.” A simplistic, but true answer.


Ruby turned to Eykit. “Should we stay together, or split up and stay at separate places? What do you think?”


“You are probably going to be staying at some classy place.”


“Yes….”


“Well, I am not.”


“Makes sense. I was thinking it would be better to split up also. Plus, we move in different circles. You can check places I wouldn’t be able to easily get into.”


Eykit nodded. There were certain places that few knew about in any city, and he felt pretty confident that if he wen’t looking for them, he could find them. Although, with the way that the local constabulary was acting, some of those doors might have shut. Certainly people would be more untrusting of strangers.


Ruby walked down the wharf until she found a street going into Lower Dwarfchat proper. Eykit waited a bit, deciding which way to go. The docks were at the part of Lower Dwarfchat nearest the waterfalls and Upper Dwarfchat. Most likely, he thought, the caravanserai that I want to stay at will be one of the ones farthest away from Upper Dwarfchat. He turned, and walked in the direction of the river’s current, away from Upper Dwarfchat. The road turned into the city at the end of the wharf, and he followed its path until it ended at what seemed to be a fairly main street. He looked around, seeing a sign on a building nearby. It was First Street.


He went left, still moving towards the outskirts. He hadn’t seen any caravanserai yet, just a bunch of warehouses, with the occasional shop. Every now and then, when the wind shifted, he got a whiff of something nasty, biting, and astringent. Ugh, he thought, there must be a tannery nearby. Who am I kidding? Of course there is a tannery nearby. Likely launderers, and dyers, and gob farmers. All the smelly industries will be down here in Lower Dwarfchat. He’d been seeing a lot of people moving about, most of them non-Dwarves. And most, he noted, wore clothes that showed a lot of patches and repairs, and not a few threadbare places. Not the richest part of town, he mused.


He noted the locations of a few taverns and shops as he walked. First Street ended at Ferry Street. Down the street towards the river, he could see the ferry terminal, a squat stone building with a short line of empty wagons waiting to be ferried across to the fields on the opposite bank.


Eykit turned right on Ferry Street. He asked a passersby carrying a basket of mixed vegetables, “Sir, where can I find an inn?”


The basket bearer, likely coming back from a trip to the grocer, was a Human, clean shaven but for a brushy mustache. He looked down at the short Goblin with squinty brown eyes. “Ah, well, there are many, here in town. Most are at the outskirts. Find the edge of town. It won’t be long until you find a caravanserai.”


Eykit sketched a bow. “Thank you, sir,” he said, smiling. The man went on his way. Eykit stared after him for a moment, and saw a pair of what must have been the Civil Patrollers he’d heard about. They wore a grey and terracotta livery, and were armed with partisans and shields. They were also a block away, and not moving towards him. Thoughts of seeing what was in the basket-carrier’s pockets fled his mind, and he kept to his task. He passed a potters business, and through the open door he could hear the noise of several potter’s wheels.

Civil Patroller


The road reached the edge of town, and on the other side of a field of wheat stubble he could see the tannery, and past that, several tubs filled with colorful substances. Fortunately, he was upwind, at least for the moment. The road split, one pathway going towards the tannery, the other following the edge of town. He followed the man’s instructions, following the road as it made a corner, the city buildings on the left, and a series of fields to the right. He could see workers in the fields, bringing in the harvest.


He followed the road, still paved in stone, around a curve that took him back into the city. At an intersection, he could see a sign two buildings down on his left that said, “Silver Blossom Caravanserai”.

The courtyard was packed with wagons, parked in lines. Animals were being led somewhere towards the back, likely some kind of corral or other enclosure. People milled about, and he could see several people that were definitely guarding the wagons. It was loud and boisterous, with everyone shouting to make themselves heard over the general noises. Two shrieking Human children, likely no older than three—six, he corrected himself, these were Humans after all—ran around between the carts and wagons, playing some kind of game of tag.


He went into the main building, through a door marked “Entrance”. Convenient, he thought.


Taid


Taid walked along the main caravan road, his polearm and his ebony branch resting on his shoulder. He had to step to the side of the road to let a caravan past, headed towards Kibil-nâla and points beyond. He waved to the friendlier-looking people on the wagons, nodding politely to the others. It wasn’t a large caravan, only nine wagons and two dozen pack mules. He couldn’t tell what their cargo was, but he was able to glimpse some Khuzdûl runes on some of the crates, so it was likely that they were carrying goods from the Undercities. Finished goods and mushrooms, most likely, he thought.


After the caravan had passed, he walked on. Not far outside of town was a roadside shrine. It was tall and narrow, made of stone and open on the side facing the road. It was only about a meter and a half wide, and the same deep. Inside was a stone altar, with another stone standing upon it like a small obelisk.


Taid knelt at the altar, and prayed to Aheru-Mazda. He offered thanks for reaching Dwarfchat, and, although he didn’t expect a direct answer, guidance in finding Kallia. He also made sure to tell Aheru-Mazda that if he was needed for anything, he was available.


He didn’t pray aloud; he kept his thoughts and prayers between himself and his patron deity. At least, he was hoping that he still had a patron deity. It had been a long time since he had felt any kind of divine presence. He finished with a small burnt offering of beard hair. Aheru-Mazda appreciated the sacrifice of something of value, and Dwarven beards were a source of pride in Dwarven society.


And as Taid brushed his beard back into proper shape with his fingers, he realized that it had been a long time since he’d last visited a good Dwarven barber. The barbers in Port Karn were competent enough, but lacked the proper attention to detail required for a proper Dwarven beard. He looked forward to a good pampering.


The first building he saw was a sawmill, powered by the river. But ahead of him was Lower Dwarfchat, a collection of stone buildings marching up the slope until they were hidden by the forest. Upper Dwarfchat he could only see as a line of stone buildings along the top of the cliff, above the two thundering waterfalls. They formed rainbows in the sunlight.


He saw glass windows in all of the buildings. There was a lot of activity, with people going about their business. Like Port Karn, it seemed very cosmopolitan, with many of the races he was familiar with represented.


He needed to find out where the Mountainstream Inn was, where city hall was, and where a good weapon smith was. And that was just to start. He picked a sweaty looking Dwarf who was pushing a handcart full of heavy sacks.


“Excuse me,” Taid said, “but I was wondering if you could give me some directions. I’m new here.”


The stocky, short man set the handcart down on its legs, and brushed a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes. “I can see that. Where do you want to go?”


“Is there a city hall somewhere?”


The man rolled his eyes. “Yes. It’s in Upper Dwarfchat.” He pointed towards the waterfalls. “Up there.”


“Thanks,” Taid said, and the man lifted the arms of the handcart, and moved off, carrying his load to wherever it was supposed to be going. A bit rude, he thought. Maybe I caught him on a bad day.


He gazed up at the cliff. I guess I’d better get going. He knew that Ruby and Eykit were already in town, somewhere, although they weren’t his concern at the moment. He’d meet up with them later.


He followed the road until it ended at a T intersection, and turned right into town. He passed a caravanserai, but kept going, turning towards the cliff when that road ended at another T intersection. Like many cities, this one had grown organically, so its streets weren’t logically laid out.


He asked a woman carrying a basket loaded with brightly colored folded cloth, possibly laundry, or maybe bolts of fabric. He couldn’t be sure. “Ma’am,” he said, what’s the quickest way to Upper Dwarfchat from here?”


The woman, a Human, looked into his differently colored eyes, a little taken aback by his heterochromia. “Uh,” she stammered, “go that way down Ferry Street, and take the left down First Street. It leads to the Switchback and the Lift.”


“Thanks!” Taid replied. He’d noticed that he was on Ferry Street, and it wasn’t too far to the first left turn. He walked in that direction, whistling and old Dwarven tune he learned in the Monastery from the other seminarians. The Abbot, a rather prim and proper Dwarf whose sense of propriety was overstated to say the least, would likely be shocked by the lyrics, had Taid been singing them.


He made his way down First Street, passing the First Street Caravanserai, noting its location for later. He also passed by a warehouse with a sign saying “Dwarfchat Food Bank” on it. First Street became very forested as it climbed up approaching the cliff. Shortly after a switchback, the road split. The signpost had two arrows. The one pointing left said “Switchback Road”, while the one to the right said “The Lift”. He looked upslope. He could see portions of the Switchback Road between the trees, wagons, animals, and people making their slow way upwards.


A quick calculation and he estimated its length at about two kilometers or so. He turned and went down the road to The Lift.


The Lift was built next to the southern waterfall. It was a complicated device; Taid could see a pair of tracks that led up the cliff, to which was attached a wood and metal cage. It was big enough for a wagon and the animals that pulled it. At the base of The Lift was a small office. A sign posted on the office said “Lift: $15 per person, $50 per wagon and team”.


Taid looked up the cliff. Water cascaded down in a loud thundering, and the air was full of cooling mist. Fifteen Imperial Marks? he thought. He looked back at the Switchback Road, winding its way back and forth up the slope, the road seemingly cut out of the stone of the cliff. They are probably still paying for the creation of that road. Spendy ride up the cliff, but I really don’t feel like hoofing it myself. At the top of the cliff were two sets of large wheels, the kind that had animals in them to provide lifting power. Many cranes used the same technique, although those were often a bit smaller, and made to have workers turning them. These wheels, three in each set, were very large, big enough for large animals.


And they would need them, too. The lift itself was ten meters wide and three deep, with a roof four meters high. With a wagon and its animals, it would weigh in excess of four and half metric tons.


He reluctantly paid the the fifteen marks for a ticket. Then he waited, along with a few other people, for the lift to finish going up, then back down the cliff face. It took a half hour for it to clatter its way down. It had a ratcheting mechanism to prevent it falling. The people on the descending trip got off, talking amongst themselves. Most seemed to be in good spirits, and well-dressed. A few were richly dressed. Almost all of them were Dwarves, and Taid could see that many included brightly colored beads of glass or metal in their beards, in addition to various braiding methods. All were shiny, well-kept, and fashionable, given the similarities in beard designs. Taid’s beard was not any of those things. They departing passengers gave what seemed to him to be disparaging looks.


Taid stepped aboard. The load was light; only him and a few other people. No large cargoes, at least this time. He suspected that the prices kept most large cargoes off of it. It went up the tracks slowly, clacking as it did as the ratchet pawl engaged, slipped, and engaged again, all the way up. The view was amazing, looking out over the lake. Boats flitted here and there, and he could see the busy docks receding as the cage climbed up the tracks.


He looked up. There was a space between the cliff face and the roof of the lift cage; the cliff face wasn’t fully vertical. He could see the wheels spinning slowly, and as the lift rose, he could see that the wheels had burly aurochs in them. The strong, bull like animals walked and turned the wheels, which in turn pulled the lift up the tracks.


There were a few other people going up as well, and he overheard a pair of pale-skinned Dwarves complaining about how inefficient the lift was compared to the ones in the Undercities. He glanced over at them. They wore slightly different fashions than he had seen so far in town, so he assumed they were tourists, and likely from under the mountains.




At the top, Taid got off. The buildings in Upper Dwarfchat were of slightly better construction than those of Lower Dwarfchat, with more buildings showing decorative additions in the Dwarven fashion. He started walking into Upper Dwarfchat.


To one side was a river, one of the two that Upper Dwarfchat straddled. Across the river on the other side was what could only have been the old town, surrounded as it was by five meter tall walls, complete with towers, crenelations, and machicolations. He could see two stone bridges arching over the water, one leading to the walled portion of the city, and one beyond it that seemed to go into another unwalled section of town. Neither were draw bridges, but the center span of the arch was high enough for the small craft that the river could handle, none of which had sails or masts.


He made his way along the road that fronted the river, trees on the river side, and a row of buildings on the other. The road had a decent amount of traffic on it, mostly pedestrian, with an occasional wagon or cart. He passed “Wickram’s Tailoring”, which seemed like it must be a decent clothiers based upon the large number of people clustered just inside the door.


Just past a side street was Lugnir’s Barber Shop, and Taid fingered his beard. It had been eightdays since he’d had a chance to go to a barber. He noted its location. When he had some time, he’d want to get his beard taken care of. He held one of the braided ends up to his gaze, and he noted the split ends. He sighed, looking longingly at the barber shop.


“I’ll be back,” he said under his breath, gazing at the barbershop. As he did, a Dwarf walked out, his beard gloriously glossy, and woven into braids within braids, and decorated with what seemed to be glass beads. He’d been wondering what the occasional glints and flashes were that he’d been seeing ever since he got to Upper Dwarfchat. As he looked around like a tourist, he could see many of the Dwarves around him sporting colorful glass beads in their beards and hair. Apparently it was the local fashion. The braided braids, however, seemed to be avant garde; he didn’t see anyone but that one customer sporting that look.


He did see a few Dwarves, along with a Human, that had colored beards. That also seemed to be a local fashion. Perhaps the barbers had a partnership with the dyers.

He crossed over the arched stone bridge, and as he came down the other side he could see the gate that lead into the walled section of town. Two Civil Patrollers stood at the gate, partisans at their sides. They watched as he walked down the slope of the bridge, eyeing him critically. He was, after all, carrying a polearm, even if it was sheathed.


“Good day, citizen,” the one on the right said.

Taid nodded at him, then the other patroller. They didn’t try to stop him from going in, and Taid mentally shrugged. For a moment, he thought they might give him trouble; carrying around a polearm wasn’t usually legal within city limits, unless you had permission.


Huh, he thought, maybe they think I’m a caravan guard. The district locally known as the Walled City lay before him. A sign on the wall of the nearest building said “1st Street”. He frowned; there was a street in Lower Dwarfchat called “First Street”. They didn’t seem connected though, and wondered how that had happened. One of the oddities of history, I guess.


It was likely that city hall was on 1st Street, or at least nearby. He continued on down the street, noting the shops he might want to visit later.

He saw a baker, and, next door, a brew pub. The sign on the brew pub said “The Fallen Rocks”, and it had an image of a glass with two ice cubes falling into it. He wanted to go into the tavern, but he had a mission to accomplish first.


1st Street dumped onto the Market Square at the center of the Walled City. He looked around, trying to find a building that looked official enough to be city hall. He didn’t see one.


“Excuse me,” he said to a Dwarf pushing a creaking handcart full of bricks. “I’m looking for City Hall. I was told it was here in Upper Dwarfchat.”


The Dwarf looked at him, squinting in the sunlight. “Aye, it’s here. Well,” he pointed to a street across the square, “It’s that way. Head towards the Baron’s castle, but don’t cross the bridge. City Hall is not far from the bridge.”


“Thanks,” Taid replied. He wove through the crowded square, being careful not to bump anyone with his polearm. He went down the indicated street, and he saw Skadrel’s Alchemy Shop. He could see the bridge, and he turned down the street that lead to it. Past the bridge he could see a large building with pennants flying in a row across the front. At the front were columns, three stories tall. It looked official.


As he approached the building, he could see the words “City Hall” carved into the front, just behind the row of columns. It was actually written twice, once in Northern Khuzdûl, the runes sharp and angular, and, below it, Imperial characters with their curvilinear forms. He walked in, out of the warm midafternoon sun.


The Lobby was a largish space, with a high ceiling. There were a lot of small tables with upholstered chairs, each with a lit oil lamp shedding a warm pool of light. They were about a third full with Dwarves talking softly to each other. From what little Taid could overhear, the main topics were economics, politics, and social customs.


Just inside the door was a closet, with a checking clerk sitting nearby. The burly Dwarf stood, saying, “I’ll take that weapon for you. The sword too.”


Taid handed Maggie and his short sword to him. He got a numbered token in return, and the Dwarf placed the weapons inside the closet. Through the doorway, Taid could see several other weapons in there, some polearms, but most were sidearms.


There was a desk placed just in front of a closed door that led to the rest of the building, most likely an area of offices and conference rooms. The Dwarf, a man with reddish hair and beard and deep brown eyes, glanced up from some paperwork he was filling out. He closed the folder the pages were in, and addressed Taid. “Hello, welcome to City Hall.”


“Good afternoon,” Taid replied. “I’m new to the city, and I have a couple of questions.”


“All right, we might even have some answers!”


“I have a friend who stayed here a couple of years ago, and he said I should stay at the Mountainstream Inn. Is that place still in business, and where can I find it?”


The Dwarf clasped his hands together in front of him, setting them on the desk. “Yep, it’s still in business. You can find it in South Upper Dwarfchat, on Stonehelm Terrace. It’s pretty big, you can’t miss it. Nice view, too. You can see the lake from there, at least most of it.”


“Would you happen to have a highly talented weapon smith in town? Someone you would recommend?”


“We do.”


“Who would that be?”


“Galnir Ashjaw, of Ashjaw’s Weapons.”


“Where might I find this skilled craftsman?”


The secretary gave Taid directions; it turned out that the shop wasn’t too far from City Hall.


“Awesome. Thank you very much.”


Now that he knew where he was going, he couldn’t wait to get there and get the process of upgrading Maggie started. He flipped the token to the checking clerk, who deftly caught it. “That was quick,” he said.


“Didn’t take too long to get the info I needed,” Taid replied with a grin.


The checking clerk went into the closet and retrieved Taid’s halberd, still covered with its sheath, and his sword and belt. Taid buckled it on, the sword hanging at his side. Grabbing his halberd and the long stick tied to it, he walked out.


It didn’t take him long to reach Ashjaw’s Weapons; it was only a few short blocks. The storefront was one of the larger facades on the block, part of a line of shops set shoulder to shoulder with no space in between. Like most of the buildings in Dwarfchat, it was of stone, and had a window on either side of the door. The sign, painted on the wall above the door, said “Ashjaw’s Fine Weapons”. He walked in, the bell on the door dinging as he did so.


It was a largish building, although the front room was obviously only a small part of the space, as it wasn’t very deep. The inside walls were paneled in fine-grained wood, to which shelves and racks were bolted. Those held weapons of various kinds and sizes, although the majority of them were spears, partisans, and knives. There was a door in the back, and a counter, behind which were two Dwarves. One was busy sweeping, the other had his attention on Taid. The man smiled behind his blonde beard. It had rows of beads strung in it, and Taid could hear the soft clatter as they clacked together when he moved his head.


“Ushmâkh!” Taid called out to him. It meant “greatest hail” in Khuzdûl.


“Hello there,” the man behind the counter replied, smiling.


“I’m looking for Galnir Ashjaw.”


“Specifically him?”


Taid shrugged. “I’ve heard that he’s the person I should talk to.”


“Huh. Okay, what kind of thing are you looking for?”




Taid held up his halberd. “This is Maggie, my beloved halberd.”


“That looks like a very nice halberd.”


Taid nodded in agreement. “And I’ve come across this excellent piece of ebony wood, and I’d like to upgrade Maggie to use this wood as the shaft. With my current enchantments.”


“We can make you the new shaft, but you’ll have to take it a mage guild for the enchantments. We don’t do those.”


“I assume there is a place in town that would? Where would that be?”


“Go visit the Delver’s Guild, or Iron Mountain. Those are the two mage guilds with enchantment divisions. Delver’s Guild is bigger, though, and has a larger selection of magics and more enchanters.”


“Where can I find the Delver’s Guild?”


“When you exit the shop, go right, and take a right at Market Street. Go about a block, and it’s right there at the corner.”


Taid nodded, taking the information in. “So, about the halberd itself….” He looked questioningly at the shopkeeper as he laid it and the long piece of ebony on the countertop.


“So,” the shopkeeper said, as he untied the twine that kept the ebony secured to the existing halberd shaft, “you want us to replace the shaft with this piece of ebony wood?” He picked up the three meter long stick, and held it in both hands, wiggling it about. An odd look moved across his face, a mixture of confusion, awe, and disbelief. “What the…? Just a moment.”


He stepped back, still holding the stick horizontally in both hands, giving himself a little more room. He shifted its weight back and forth, tilting the stick first one way, then the other, frowning in concentration. After a few moments of this, he asked, “Damn, where did you find this stick?” There was something special about that stick, about the way it moved and reacted to sudden changes in movement. It felt…good. Right. Like it was designed to do that in that way. Like it had a purpose, if only inadvertently.


“To be honest, I can’t remember exactly. Somewhere east of here, not too far from the river. We had taken the shorter, river route, rather than the longer, overland caravan road.”


“I see.” He placed the stick back onto the counter next to the polearm. “So, just to be clear, you would like us to replace that shaft with one made from this stick, using the existing fittings and head.” He tapped the stick for emphasis.


“Yes.”


“Okay. We can do that. We can shape the shaft, and swap over all of the hardware.” He picked up the halberd, looking carefully at the head, langets, rivets, bands, and finally, the end cap. “Shouldn’t be a problem. We can put all of the hardware on, but like I said, we can’t do the enchantments.”


“You can’t put the powerstone back on?”


“Powerstone?” He hadn’t seen any gems on the halberd. Most powerstones were gems, although not all. He wasn’t a mage, so if one of the pieces that made up the halberd was enchanted, he wouldn’t be able to know that.


“I have a powerstone hidden in the end cap, secured in a small hole drilled in the shaft.”


“Oh! Thanks for letting me know. We might not have noticed that and tossed it with old shaft. We can attach it to the new shaft in the same way. Did you want it visible, so you can touch it directly and use it without the shaft being enchanted? Or keep it hidden?” Keeping it hidden would make the powerstone unusable until the Staff enchantment, which acted as a “touch conduit”, was added. Powerstones had to be touched to function.


“Keep it hidden. I can do without it until I can get the shaft enchanted again.” He hoped he wouldn’t need it, anyway. He was counting on getting his halberd back before he got into any trouble that required its use. “How long will it take, and how much will it cost?”


“We could probably do that for you in only two days. And as far as price is concerned, we can do it for two hundred marks.”


“Okay, that sounds reasonable.”


The shopkeeper had a piece of paper, and was writing down notes and specifics about the job, in Khuzdûl runic characters. He made it very detailed, listing the steps required in order to get the job done. He even specifically mentioned the powerstone, entering it into the record. Once the work order was complete, he spun it around on the counter so Taid could read it.


“If that is exactly what you want, sign at the bottom,” the shopkeeper said. “Is there anything else you want that isn’t covered? If so, we can add it.”


Taid looked it over, checking each line. Nothing had been forgotten; the work order was exactly what he wanted. Maggie was going to get a new shaft, with all her old hardware attached to it. He signed it, and paid for the work to be done.




Elitheris and Almë


Elitheris and Almë got their camp situated in the shallow ravine. Taid, Eykit, and Ruby would all be staying in the city, so only the two Elves needed to put up shelters. They set up one set of tarps as ground cloths, with a second tarp as a sheltering roof. Then Elitheris did what she could to camouflage the tarps from the most likely directions they would be seen from. She couldn’t completely hide them from scrutiny, but anyone actually looking down into the ravine would see them anyway. But at least they were concealed from people walking by and casually looking in their direction.


They both worked on getting a campfire ready, Elitheris getting wood while Almë found some rocks to keep it contained.


There wasn’t anything she could do about hiding the fire, though. “Almë,” she told him, “we’ll need to use only very dry wood for the fire, to reduce the amount of smoke. Using wet wood will likely bring unwanted guests that are curious about the smoke.”


“Got it,” the tall Elf replied. “I’d rather not have anyone know we are out here, anyway.”


Elitheris nodded. “Although, if anyone does come by, I suppose it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary for Elves to be staying in the forest, rather than in the confines of the city.”


“Good point. But just the same, I’d like to avoid having to answer any questions. The fewer people that know we are out here, the better.”


And with that, Almë sat at the base of a tree at one end of the ravine, leaning back against its trunk. From that vantage point, he could see the entire camp, and some of the forest in the direction of the caravan road. If anyone came from that direction, he’d see them, although he suspected the dogs would bark long before any intruder got close enough to actually see.


Wilbur, tied to a running line, cropped the grass that grew between the trees and the undergrowth, occasionally supplemented by the tender leaves of new growth. Both dogs, after sniffing around the camp, eventually wandered over towards Almë, laying down on either side of him.


Elitheris gathered her bow and quiver. “I’m going hunting,” she told Almë. “I’ll be back before dark, I hope.”


Almë nodded. “I’ll be here. And if I’m not, you can blame Kallia.” He grinned.


Elitheris looked at him quizzically. “Are you serious? Or is that you making a joke?”


“Hopefully joking. I’d hate for Kallia to find me here by myself.”


The Elven woman stared at him for another moment, said, “Me too,” then turned and walked into the forest.


She headed southward, passing between the fields of Kibil-nâla on one side, and those of Dwarfchat on the other. In less than a kilometer she was in open forest, the farms behind her. Her path led her upslope as the mountain curved eastward ahead of her. She paused often, looking for spoor, keeping an eye and an ear out for any game or enemies.


She found several piles of pellets, so she knew there were deer around. But they tended to come out and forage early in the morning and at dusk, staying hidden most of the day, so it didn’t bother her that she didn’t find anything right away. She did find several game trails, however, mentally noting their positions relative to various landmarks. She would likely find a place to hide near the game trails and wait for the deer to come along.


For the next hour or so, she ranged all over the forested slope, getting the lay of the land.

She hadn’t seen any game, besides the occasional rabbit or squirrel, but those moved faster than she could get her bow in position. She had several places she could choose from to wait for deer, however. She chose a likely-seeming one about twenty meters away from the game trail, and a little elevated, hiding behind a low rock and some underbrush. It would give her room to use her bow without become too visible to the quarry that she hoped would be walking by.


She didn’t have to wait too long, less than an hour went by when a small group of black tailed deer sauntered by, led by an enormous buck.

Elitheris drew back her bow, taking aim down the shaft just long enough to line up the shot, then let fly. There was a soft twang as the arrow leapt forth, striking the buck just beneath the shoulder blade. It took one step, then collapsed with a huff. The does accompanying it scattered in different directions, leaping into the forest, but they weren’t in any danger. Elitheris had what she wanted. The stag lay unmoving, dead before it finished hitting the ground. The broached arrow had grazed the heart, slicing open a ventricle.


It had been a good shot. A lucky shot, but a good one. She tried lifting it, but it weighed upwards of 135kg. There was no way she was going to lug that thing back to camp.


I should have hit one of the does, she thought. What was I thinking? But she knew. In addition to being food, it was also a trophy kill. And she did have some pride. She enjoyed hunting, and pitting her skills against creatures who’d evolved to avoid predation and hunting.


She looked around, and saw what she needed. Using her hatchet, she collected several saplings. Stripping the branches off of them left her with some springy poles. These she lashed together at one end, then wove some of the smaller branches between them, forming a travois.


She extracted the arrow from the carcass, wiping it off and putting it back in her quiver. Then she rolled the dead stag with its impressive rack of antlers onto the travois. She tied the stag to the travois; there was no sense in pulling the travois out from under it. She began dragging the animal back to camp, a journey of a kilometer or so.


A few times she had some trouble getting past some trees. The roots and branches would snag on it, and she had to laboriously extricate it from the vegetation. It was starting to get dim by the time she reached camp.


Almë had been meditating, his mind clear and focused, his breathing even and regular. That state of bliss was broken by a loud crashing in the forest. At first, his mind had ignored it, faint and distant as it was, but it had gotten closer and louder. He grabbed his staff, which had been lying nearby, and rose up onto his haunches, crouching, ready to spring.


Whatever was making the noise wasn’t trying to be sneaky. The noise resolved into a sound that was less crashing and more like a weight being dragged through the undergrowth. Elitheris emerged at one end of the ravine, coming towards camp, dragging something behind her.


“Ah!” Almë said, rising from his crouch by the fire. “I was starting to wonder what happened to you.”


“I got a deer.”


“Yeah, I can see that. That’s the biggest damned stag I think I’ve ever seen!”


“Heavy too. Help get it strung up so I can dress it.”


She untied it from the travois. Almë had thrown a rope over a tree branch. Once tied to the rope, they hoisted the dead animal up until it hung head down. They stood back, admiring their handiwork, and the carcass.


“Eighteen points on those antlers,” Almë mused.


“Might be worth something in town,” Elitheris said. “And we don’t need this much meat, either.”


“We can keep some. We have a bit of room in the preservation boxes.”


“Some, yes.” Elitheris looked around, scanning the nearby forest. She was looking for slender sticks to harvest. There were plenty. “Help me build a drying rack.”


Collecting several armloads of sticks, Elitheris started tying them together into a latticework with a pair of legs, setting it near the fire and angling it to get the heat and whatever smoke the campfire produced. Once that was done, she and Almë skinned and gutted the animal, saving the organs and entrails in one of the oilcloth tarps. There was a market for those. She also severed the head, thinking that someone might want a stag head, complete with an impressive rack of antlers, for a wall decoration. Dwarfchat, she thought, should have someone who makes those. Then she cut strips of meat, hanging them on the drying rack.


“Venison jerky!” Almë said with glee. “Good travel food. And snacks. And it goes well with pickles!”


“I’ll go into town with Wilbur to sell what we won’t be keeping,” Elitheris stated. They had about 65kg of meat on the rack, drying at the fire.


“Tonight? Will anything be open?”


“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Tomorrow morning.”


That night they had roasted venison and boiled wild greens that Almë had collected while he waited for Elitheris to get back.


Taid


Taid needed to find a place to stay for the night. He had walked past the Mountainstream Inn on his way to the weapon smith’s, so he walked back to it, hoping they had room for the night.


The Mountainstream Inn was a large, stone building, with ivy covering much of its front surface. Dark wood trim outlined doors and windows, and there was a large sign with its name hanging above the sturdy wooden door. There were two wings on either side of the tavern in the middle. On the lower floor were the stables, and above them a series of rooms for guests. Behind the building, between the two wings, was a courtyard, with manicured shrubs and colorful flowers, with stone benches here and there to sit on and enjoy the garden. The inn was built on a slope, so from the courtyard guests could look out over two rows of buildings to the lake and Lower Dwarfchat.


Noise could be heard from inside, talking and laughing. Opening the door, Taid was met by a dimly-lit room, furnished with darkly stained furniture. A pair of horn chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing some light, and each trestle table had candles running down the center, spaced about a meter or so apart. The place was crowded.


There were all kinds of people in the tavern, all wearing clothing that marked them as “higher than peasants”. The clientele at the Mountainstream tavern were higher on the income scale than most commoners. These were likely merchants, or people with merchants. Most of the people were Human, although Taid could see Dwarves, Hobbits, Goblins, and Orcs as well. One table near the door that led to the courtyard had six Aarakocra sitting at it, trying hard to keep their wing feathers and tail feathers from getting stepped on by the other patrons.


Sitting with a group of Humans and Goblins was a reptilian figure, with tan scales that had green tips. On its skin were geometric markings, painted on in teal paint. Or perhaps they were tattoos. Taid wasn’t sure. It sat quietly, listening to its companions, every now and again taking a bite out of a roasted turkey leg. It was a Kler’nak, one of the reptile folk that lived far to the south in the desert. It was a long way from home, and likely a member of some caravan, although Taid was unsure whether it was a merchant, a teamster, or a guard. With its long claws and fearsome sharp teeth, he guessed guard. It looked strong.


Taid went to the bar, behind which was a blonde Dwarf. “Hello,” Taid said, getting his attention. “Are you the innkeeper?”

Malram Quartzshine, bartender at the Mountainstream Inn


The bartender put down the glass he’d been polishing. “Nah, that’d be my da. Over there.” He pointed off to one side of the room, where another, older Dwarf stood behind a counter, writing in a ledger.

Darmund Quartzshine, innkeeper at the Mountainstream Inn


“Good day,” the innkeeper said as Taid walked up.


“Do you have any rooms left?”


“No, I don’t. I have a space in a bed in one of the common rooms, though, if you don’t mind sleeping with someone else.”


“I’ll pass, thank you. I’ll just get some dinner.”


Taid went back to the bar, sitting on a stool.


“Staying with us this evening?” Malram asked.


“No room, apparently. But I’ll get a beer, and some food.”


“Ah. Light or dark beer?”


“Light.”


“Beef, fowl, or fish?”


“Beef, please.”


“You got it.” He turned away, first getting Taid’s beer, then giving the order to the cook in the kitchen.


Malram was friendly and affable.


“So,” Malram said, as he placed a stein of beer in front of Taid, “where you from? Haven’t seen you here before.”


“I’m from Port Karn.”


“Ah! That’s a bit of a trip!”


“Just doing a bit of traveling.”


“Haven’t been out that way myself. What’s it like?”


“It’s an interesting place. Coastal city, so it smells like fish on a good day.”


Malram laughed, his beard braids shaking. “Good day?”


Taid gave a lopsided grin. “On a bad day, it smells of sewage and fish.” He took a sip of his beer, a light, frothy ale bitter with hops, but with an underlying sweetness that almost snuck up on the drinker. “Good beer,” he complimented.


“Thanks. We try.” The bartender winked. “I use a bit of apple in the mash. Not enough to make it taste like cider, but enough to give a rounder flavor profile and balance out the hops.”


“If you visit Port Karn, watch out for the Flower Pot Gang.”


“The what now?” He noticed that one of the other customers at the bar wanted a refill. He refilled the man’s mug, set it in front of the customer, and turned back to Taid. “Are they really called the Flower Pot Gang?”


“They are up to no good. They are up and coming. You’ll know about them by the time you get a chance to get out there.”


“They couldn’t have come up with a more threatening name?”


Taid snorted. “They aren’t the brightest candles in the chandelier.” He glanced around, and changed the subject. “It’s been a while since I’ve spent any time in a proper Dwarven domicile.”


“Hanging out with the tall folk more often, huh?”


“Yeah. I was in the Army, so I traveled around a lot. Even since getting out and striking out on my own I haven’t had a chance to get back to Zirak Dûm.”




“I could tell from your dress and demeanor that you were a soldier. Less swagger, more quiet competence.”


Taid smiled. He was wearing his gambeson and steel corselet, a common enough armor combination to not attract too much undo attention. “Yeah, I’m here on holiday, just checking stuff out. I want to go see new places I haven’t been before.”


“Oh yeah?” Malram said, “Where are you from originally?”


“I was actually born in Port Karn, lived there as a child, then moved to Zirak Dûm, where I trained at the Retreat of St. Euclase. After that I joined the Imperial Army. After that I joined a series of small mercenary bands, but none of those really suited me.”


“Oh wow. You’ve been around.”


“Yep. I like meeting interesting people. Unique people. What’s the Imperial Army slogan? ‘Travel to new places, meet interesting people, and then kill them.’” It wasn’t completely true; the Tondene Imperial Army hadn’t been in an actual war in a long time. The slogan was an exaggeration. Most of a soldier’s time in the Army involved digging. Lots of digging, whether it was latrines, fortifications, roads, or other construction projects.


“I should tell you about guano some day,” Taid said, with a laugh.


“Guano? Now I’m curious!” The bartender’s eyes twinkled beneath his bushy brows.


Over the next half hour or so, Taid recounted the tale of the Breathstealer, emphasizing the cave full of bat shit. He deliberately left out his companions, using villagers for their parts in it. As far as Malram, and anyone else listening in (and there were several people listening to the story), he was a solo operator who had enlisted the aid of some competent locals.


They conversed for a bit longer, but Malram was increasingly made busy by other clientele, so he had less and less time to converse with Taid. During that time, Taid got to hear a little about the Council Curia, the ruling body of the city, the Civil Patrol, which was the local constabulary, and some recent news and rumors.


The main one was that there was an increased amount of Civil Patrollers, due to some disappearances that were rumored to have been the work of a manticore. Another one was that there were thefts, mainly of Shards.




“Wait, you don’t have any gangs here in your city, but you still have thefts?”


Malram shrugged. “No organized thieves’ guilds here in Dwarfchat. They were rooted out long ago. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have crime. That will exist forever, I fear.”


“And what about these disappearances?”


Again, Malram shrugged. “People keep disappearing. No one truly knows how or why. I’ve heard it’s a manticore. But it’s also possible some people just up an left town. But even if it is a manticore, there’s no way it’s eating that many people.”


“Whoah. How many are we talking here? Should I be worried?”


The bartender nodded aggressively. “Yes! Be worried. There have been quite a few people that have supposedly disappeared over the last several weeks.”


“Several weeks!?”


“Yes.”


“So how many? Like five?”


“More than that, I think. Maybe around a dozen? That’s the impression I get from the rumors, but, you know how rumors are.”


“That strikes me as interesting, because I see the Civil Patrol all over the place. They’re everywhere.”


Malram frowned in what could only be annoyance. “Their increased presence have put a crimp in all kinds of things, to be honest.”


“Oh? How so?”


“Okay, it’s not like there is a lot of crime here to begin with. We have a ‘model city’, and we keep it that way on purpose, with some laws that some may consider very restrictive. But there is always something going on that it’s probably better that the Civil Patrol doesn’t know about. Trade deals that grease the palms of middle men. Or travel passes that are authorized that the Civil Patrol might think questionable. And they make people nervous, even the law-abiding. Everyone feels like they are being watched all the time, which they are, now. And who knows, if someone pisses off a Civil Patroller, who knows what kinds of trumped up charges they can lay on the offender. The Civil Patrol has a lot of clout here.”


Malram put out his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, with everything that’s been happening here lately, we all understand why the Civil Patrol is everywhere. We get it. It’s necessary. It just makes everyone nervous, that’s all. It’s only a matter of time before unfounded rumors gets someone killed.” He shook his head. “I just don’t see this ending well. The Civil Patrol needs a win, so they will eventually get one. Someone will take the fall for it. I just hope they catch the bastards before they choose a scapegoat.”


“I get it, they need a win to keep the publics’ trust in them.”


Malram nodded. “Some free advice, friend, since you’re new here. Keep your nose very clean. Don’t get on their bad side, and don’t piss them off. Be polite. Don’t give them any excuse to haul you in.”


“You know, I actually love this mystery stuff,” Taid explained. “It’s what got me involved with the Breathstealer. It was just this crazy story, and I had to know more. I just didn’t expect to get as wrapped up as much as I did. So this manticore stuff is right up my alley. Who’s heading up the investigation? Is it the Civil Patrol?”


“Them, and the Mountain Rangers.”


“Mountain Rangers? Who are they?”


“They are the constabulary who patrol the areas outside of city control.”


“Ah! Port Karn has the Rural Watch, who serve the same purpose. Protect farmers and travelers and all that.”


“Sounds about right. The Mountain Rangers are out looking for the lair of the Manticore, but they haven’t found it yet. And the Council Curia sent delegates to the Undercities with a request for aid as well. So there are a bunch of visiting Civil Patrollers from the Undercities sent here to bolster our ranks.” Malram shook his head. “Now, those guys are serious. The local patrollers might let some things slide, since they likely know some people here. But the ones from the Undercities? They are here doing a job. That’s it. You break the law, they process you. 1-2-3. No talking your way out of it.”


“Well, I did notice the huge number of patrollers.”


“Normally, we have quite a few Civil Patrollers running around. I don’t know if you noticed, but this is a touristy kind of town. So we try to keep the city looking nice.”


“Well, that explains the lack of graffiti and broken windows.”


“You know those restrictive laws I mentioned? They include no public drunkenness, and no spitting. Else you spend some time in the stocks, at the mercy of passersby and their fruit.”


“Yeah, there were a lot of people stuck in them on street corners. Mostly non-Dwarves, too.”


“Unfortunately, visitors aren’t always well-versed in Dwarfchat law. So it’s easy for them to fall prey to those little things that are ignored in other cities.”




“So, one thing I noticed in Port Karn, is that a lot of the rich and famous live outside the city, in mansions on hills, usually with nice views. Are there people like that here? Living in manor houses outside of town, I mean.” Taid downed the last of his beer. He tapped the beer glass to indicate he wanted seconds.


Malram smiled, grabbed the glass, and filled it from the keg behind him. He put the filled glass in front of Taid.


“To answer your question,” Malram said, after he had served another customer, “there are plenty of people living in the hills. Sometimes you can see their lights at night on the slopes above. A lot of the city council folks are rich. The guilds are pretty rich, too. And of course there are all of the local traders. They all have very nice houses.” He spread his arms, indicating the room and the building beyond it. “I’ve got this place. It’s pretty nice, I think.”


Taid nodded.


“It’s got a nice view, although not as nice as it could be, with those houses in the way.” He gestured out towards the back of the building and the houses whose roofs could be seen when in the courtyard looking out across the lake. A view Taid hadn’t even seen yet.


“Well, I’m here on the recommendation of a friend who was here a couple of years ago.”


“Oh? That’s nice.”


Talk turned to more small talk.


Ruby


Ruby arrived at Hyacinth’s Caravanserai around midafternoon. It was tucked into the slope at the edge of Lower Dwarfchat, near the cliffs the waterfalls cascaded over. It was about as far away from the wharfs as Lower Dwarfchat got, almost next to the fields that grew the city’s grain.

It was crowded, as many caravanserai were, and harvest, even towards the end of the season, was likely the busiest of times. The front courtyard, bordered on two sides by the wings of the caravanserai, was filled with wagons, animals, and people, all bustling around, busy with their tasks. The central room was the tavern, with the wings and outbuildings stretching to either side of it. Like any good home, the kitchen was the center of activity.


Weaving her way through the crowds of animal handlers and teamsters, she made her way to the tavern door. It was rounded at the top, and made of heavy, darkly stained wood with wrought iron fittings. Its weight resisted movement at first, but the hinges were well oiled, and once it started moving it opened smoothly.


The interior was a jovial mass of chaos. The center of the room was dominated by rows of trestle tables, and along the edges were smaller tables that could seat maybe six people if they were small, or if they were intimate friends. She counted six servers moving about, little islands of order carrying trays with mugs or plates of food on them. Rows of candle chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and pottery oil lamps hung on iron holders along the walls. At the center rear was a large fireplace, with several pots hanging from hooks, likely filled with perpetual stew.


It was loud, the voices of what must have been a hundred people all talking at once. She could smell the combined scents of food, both meat and more appetizing vegetables, mixed with the smells of road weary travelers. It was times like this that she really missed the perfumed courtiers of Adayn. She tried to ignore the less savory smells, and made her way to the person who seemed to be directing the servers.


At first, the innkeeper was hidden behind what seemed to be a crowd of guests, all chatting at once, but as Ruby approached, she realized that she didn’t see the innkeeper sooner was simply due to the fact that the innkeeper was small. Hyacinth Longriver was a Hobbit. With a voice used to doing business in a room filled with ambient noise.

“I’d like to get a room, please,” Ruby said.


The Hobbit held out her hand to Ruby, palm out, a gesture meaning “wait a moment”. She finished doing business with the customer, then snapped her attention to Ruby. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked.

Hyacinth Longriver, Innkeeper of Hyacinth’s Caravanserai


“I said, I’d like a room.”


“Great! We only have six left! You’re lucky you got here when you did.”


“How much?”


“20 marks a night. Or, we could find you a bed in a shared room for only 5 marks.”


“No thanks, I’d like the private room.”


“Okay, twenty marks.”


“I’m on a budget. Can I get it for fifteen?”


“No. The rate is twenty a night.” Hyacinth smiled, trying to take the edge off. “If you want cheaper, you’ll have to bunk with someone.”


“Ah, no. I’ll just pay the twenty marks.” Ruby counted out the coins, handing them to Hyacinth. “So, I’m new in town, but I’ve heard some disturbing things on the streets. What can you tell me about the disappearing people?”


Hyacinth looked troubled, and she pursed her lips in a moue. “Unfortunately, not much. Everyone is stumped. We all know people have disappeared, but no one knows how. Many people think it’s a manticore, silently swooping down on the unsuspecting and flying off with them.”


“Has anyone disappeared from here?”


The innkeeper looked shocked. “No! No one has gone missing from my caravanserai.”


“I didn’t mean to imply anything about the security of your establishment.”


“Good.”


“I meant from which areas of Dwarfchat have people gone missing?”


“Ah. Mostly Lower Dwarfchat, really. Although some have disappeared in Upper Dwarfchat as well, so it’s not exclusively the Lower Dwarfchat denizens. Most of the missing seemed to either live or be staying in Lower Dwarfchat though.” She paused, thinking. “And we’ve also been having lots of thefts lately. Mostly Shards. Muggings and stuff.”


“So I guess I should be grateful I don’t have any Shards.”


“Oh? Not one of the Shard collectors, eh? Seems like everybody is one nowadays.”


“No, no. Absolutely not. I’ve never been lucky when gambling.”


“Interesting. Everybody wants Shards.”


“I’ve heard that. Don’t get me wrong, I find them interesting. I just don’t want to own any. That’s a pleasure I find better vicariously. I’ve heard they can do really crazy stuff, and I think I’m sort of over ‘crazy’. I’m just not into them.”


“Really crazy stuff? What do you mean by ‘really crazy stuff’?” Hyacinth looked at Ruby, her head tilted questioningly.


“I’ve just heard rumors that if you combine them, they can do…odd things.”


“Odd is one word for it!” Hyacinth laughed. “They can do all kinds of fun stuff when they manage to combine. Considering the price of magic items, having access to Shards lets the poorer people partake in enchantments. At least in a limited way.” She shrugged. “I don’t think Shards will be putting enchanters out of business any time soon, though.”


Hyacinth waved to a server, who came over. He carried an empty tray, and had been on his way to the kitchen. “I just overheard that table they’re wanting more drinks. The man nodded, and headed over there.


“Sorry,” she said to Ruby. “Anyway, Shards combining happens all the time in the Shardmeets that we have around here.”


“Any good stories about what happened with combining Shards around here?”


“Nothing out of the ordinary. For Shards, anyway. Although it’s always a little weird when Shards join together. There is always some kind of magical effect that happens, although no one, as far as I know, has been able to predict what will happen. But that’s not out of the ordinary; that’s why people play with the Shards.”


Ruby’s stomach grumbled. It had been a couple hours since lunch, and she was getting hungry. “So, what’s on the menu this evening? Meatless, preferably.”


“Meatless?” Hyacinth replied. “Well, we have porridge.”


“Um, do you have fresh vegetables?”


“Well, yes. Would you like me to ask the cook to whip up something special? What would you like?”


“Um, yes, actually, that would be very nice. I just made the river passage, and I’m new in town, and I’m starving.”


“Ah! I see.” Hyacinth beamed, her customer service skills coming to the fore. “Do you eat fish?”


“No.” Ruby didn’t add that fish were animals, and thus “meat”.


“Just vegetables, then?”


“Well, milk and eggs are fine.”


“Well, okay then. How about an egg scramble with fried vegetables?”


Ah! Sounds amazing.”


“You eat cheese?


“Oh yes.”


“Then we’ll put some cheese in there too.”


Ruby smiled, nodding. “Sounds good. With some cider, please.”


“We’ll have that out soon for you. Find a seat, somewhere in that sea of people.”


Ruby scanned the room, looking for an empty seat. There were several, scattered here and there. But that wasn’t the only thing she was looking for. She was actually more interested in the two dogs she spied in the room. Both lounged under the tables, near someone’s feet. One was a golden retriever, and there was an open spot on a bench only a little ways down from it.


Ruby could not just go by a dog without saying hello. When she got even with where the dog was, she crouched, reached under the table, and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears.


The golden retriever closed its eyes in pleasure, angling his head to better allow the kind stranger easier access to the parts he wanted scratched. Ruby indulged him.


“Hi,” she said to the tall blonde human man who apparently was the dog’s owner. “Nice dog. What’s his name?”


“Maro,” the man said. He looked strong, which befit a caravan guard. His clothes looked well-made but travel-smudged, and he smelled of horse, with an underlying scent of sweat. “I’m Sweet Jon.”


“Hello,” Ruby said, being polite. She wasn’t really interested in him; the dog filled her attention span.


“Hope you don’t mind me petting your dog.”


Sweet Jon craned his neck, looking under the table at Maro, who seemed blissfully enjoying Ruby’s attentive scratching. “He doesn’t seem to mind, and I certainly don’t.”


Ruby missed Nori. She wasn’t used to being away from him for so long. She was used to his presence, and his smell, even when he was wet. This tiny-by-comparison retriever would have to satisfy that craving, and he did his best.


She told Maro (and Sweet Jon) about Norolind, about how she missed him, and how he was currently staying with a friend. She described him as her “little sweetheart of a lap dog”. A small mastiff, and very cuddly.


“That’s rough,” Sweet Jon said, sympathetically. “I don’t think I could go too long without good ol’ Maro here.”




“Yeah, he’s my little baby. So sweet and cuddly.” She had both hands on the dog now, scratching and rubbing all over his head. Maro seemed to be having a great time. She turned to face Sweet Jon. “I’m staying here. I’ve just arrived in Dwarfchat, and I heard the food was really great here. What about you two? Are you staying here too, or only here for the good food?”


“I’m here with Pangolla’s Caravan.” He gestured to the folks seated around that area of the tables, a mix of primarily Humans and Goblins, with a few Orcs, Hobbits, and Dwarves. Pangolla, the leader of the caravan, was a Goblin. He started rattling off their names, making introductions. “That’s Rollie, over there, and that is Owen, and Teressy, and Samuel, and Lucky, and Ivagan, and Alfric.” He named a few more people, farther down the benches, and they waved back. He turned back to Ruby. “And you are?”


“I’m Ruby.” There was a chorus of hello’s, and most of them went back to whatever conversations they had been having before Sweet Jon had interrupted them with introductions.


“We are here for more than just food,” he continued. “We are heading to the Dwarven Undercities, but before we can travel to them, we need to get a travel pass. We expect to get one in the next few days. Until then, we will just be hanging out around town.” He glanced down towards the end of the table. “And down that way are most of the members of the entertainment group that’s traveling with us. They call themselves ‘JB’s Marvelous Acts’. Music, acrobats, that sort of thing. And, in addition to them, we are also accompanied by a group of big game hunters, and a few families. One big happy caravan!”


“When I arrived, I heard that people were disappearing. Very alarming. You guys haven’t had any trouble with that, have you?”


“Nah, Pangolla told us to stick close to the caravanserai, and not to go around after dark. He doesn’t like to take chances. Just our bad luck that we are here in Dwarfchat when these disappearances are going on. But if you have to be stuck somewhere for a few days, this isn’t so bad.” There were murmurs of agreement among Sweet Jon’s companions.


Alfric frowned and leant over to Ivagan, an Orc teamster, whispering something in his ear. He sent several furtive glances in Ruby’s direction. Whatever he said made the Orc perk up, and his brow furrowed as well as he looked over the diminutive woman with the staff. “Huh,” was all he said.


“Since you guys have been staying here for a few days longer than I have, do you know of any nice shops or places to go around here?”


“What kinds of places are you looking for? This is a big city, and you can get just about anything you want. What are you looking for? I’d also suggest finding a companion and not wandering around alone.” Sweet Jon’s tone of voice seemed to indicate that he was worried about her running around alone.


Perhaps it was his habit as a guard, but Ruby didn’t think so. He seemed genuinely concerned. Alfric, on the other hand, still had an expression of…something. Not distaste, not annoyance, just a sense that he had a question he really didn’t want the answer to. Perhaps a bit of fear? But that made no sense…Ruby hadn’t indicated anything except friendliness. There was no reason she could tell that would make him feel that way towards her.


She chalked it up as yet another detail of this group of people, along with the other details she’d amassed while talking to Sweet Jon.


“Can I walk around during daytime? I’m not planning on walking around at night, of course.”


“The local Civvies wouldn’t let you anyway,” Lucky said, from several seats down. “There’s a curfew.”


“Yeah,” agreed Sweet Jon, “The Civil Patrol—that’s the local city guard—have had a curfew for a while now. No one’s allowed out after the 14th bell. For our own protection, they say.”


“Fine by me,” Ivagan said, lifting his mug of beer and taking a sip. “I don’t mind sitting around and drinking.”


There were sounds of agreement from around their area of the table, and a clatter of mugs clinking together.


“But daytime seems safe around here?” Ruby asked.


“Safer than most places, I wager,” Sweet Jon said. “Civvies everywhere.”


Alfric looked about the dining hall. “Just watch yourself. They are really strict here. You could end up in the stocks if you aren’t careful just for spitting, or dropping something on the ground.”


“Or jostling someone,” Ivagan added.


“The wrong someone,” Alfric said, nodding.


Sweet Jon said, “Actually, we’ve been told not to go out alone even during the day, just in case whatever is causing it decides to take a target of opportunity.”


“Okay. Thank you for the warning. Maybe I should have brought my little fluff ball with me, so I wouldn’t be alone.”



“That might have been smarter. Although I don’t know what a small dog would do to help protect you. Besides bark a warning, of course.”


“May I sit with you? My meal will be arriving soon. And I’m starving. I haven’t eaten in a few hours.”


“Sure! Owen, budge over a bit.”


Owen shifted one direction, Sweet Jon the other, forming a space for Ruby between them. Maro was pretty much under Ruby’s feet. It wasn’t long after she sat down when the server—the man she had seen earlier—came to her table with a toasted bread trencher filled with a hash of eggs, potatoes, sweet peppers, onions, yams, and at least three kinds of mushrooms, covered in melted cheese. The server also placed a mug of cider beside it.


“Ten marks for the meal, three for the drink,” the server said softly to her.


“Can I get a dish of meat scraps?”


“What?”


“Meaty treats for the dog here,” she pointed at Maro, whose head was in her lap as she scratched him behind the ears with her other hand.


“Sure. Uh, two marks for those.”


“Thank you,” she said, with a big smile.


She paid him, then took a bite. It was good, seasoned with a bit of salt, pepper, tarragon, garlic, and what seemed to be a hint of spicemint. A surprising addition, but surprisingly good. It gave the skillet scramble a bit of a kick.


Sweet Jon looked down at her bread bowl filled with eggs and vegetables. He sniffed appreciatively. “I didn’t know that was on the menu?”


“It wasn’t. But I don’t eat meat, and everything else on the menu involved some meat. So the cook whipped this up for me.”


Sweet Jon cocked his head. “You just asked for it?”


“Yes.”


“I’ll have to try that.”


She tucked in, and while she ate she traded small talk with the members of the caravan seated around her. They all seemed very friendly, except for Alfric, who for some reason just didn’t warm up to her. He kept giving her sidelong glances, as if she harbored some secret that he knew she had, and kept expecting to have come out into the open. Once or twice, Ivagan whispered something to him, but he would just shake his head in annoyance.


Every now and again, she’d slip a little treat off the small plate of scraps that had been brought out to her and give it to Maro, who gobbled it up as soon as it got within range of his mouth.


She spent a few hours talking with them, and listening for anything interesting. Overall, they were a relatively happy, friendly group. Compared to the courtiers she was used to interacting with, these people were open, sincere, honest folk. It was rather refreshing, not having to try to see what was behind their words to the truth, a skill which could be very difficult for Ruby, especially when the person she was talking to was making a joke. Ruby’s default mode was assuming that what they said, they meant; she was always a little confused when others would laugh. It was only in hindsight did she realize that they had been joking, based upon the reactions of those around them. It was very frustrating.


She heard a bit about the colorfully dressed entertainers, the group known as JB’s Marvelous Acts. They had musicians and singers, dancers, acrobats, and jugglers. One of them did his juggling while on a slack line, suspended above the audience’s heads. They didn’t really know much about the hunters; they kept mostly to themselves, but they seemed to be taking some wild animals for display in the Undercities. As for the families, none of them were Dwarvish, and so they weren’t sure if they were even going all the way to the Undercities, or whether they would be leaving the caravan before then. It was unlikely that they were immigrants into the Dwarf caves. Although it was possible they were going to live and work on the slopes of the mountains, farming and raising livestock for the underground cities.


“You know, it’s a myth that the Dwarven diet consists solely of mushrooms,” Teressy stated. “Although they do eat a lot of them. They even have bread made from mushrooms. It’s blue!”


At one point, Ruby’s curiosity got the better of her, and she asked them how the caravan got to Dwarfchat. “Did you guys go by boat? Because I did, and it was very intense and dangerous!”


Sweet Jon answered. “No, we came overland. Heh. It would take a really, really big boat, or several boats, to fit our caravan. We came the usual caravan route: Port Karn to Lytan’s Mill, then Sheepshear and Fleetmilk. We did have a run in with some big sabrecats one night, when they thought they could ambush us and get a quick kill. But Gadget Nimm over there had set up some booby traps, which scared ‘em right off.” Gadget Nimm, a Dwarf with an ash-blonde beard and hair to match, raised his mug of beer in acknowledgement.


Ruby also heard some things about the muggings. Not all the muggings ended up with the victims dead. Many still lived; the thieves were interested in Shards, not necessarily killing. They originally started out happening on the nights when Shardmeets took place. After all, it was a target rich environment. And the Awakeners aren’t happy about the thefts, and are looking into the crimes themselves, along with the Civil Patrol. After all, they were the ones that set up the Shardmeets, and had a vested interest in keeping them safe.


She also heard more about the disappearances. Rumors had it that those were being perpetrated by a manticore, although no one had seen it yet. But Pangolla’s Caravan had only been in town for two days, so they hadn’t heard very much.




“So,” Ruby asked, “do you guys do much with the Shards? Go to Shardmeets and such?”


Some of the caravan members said that they had some Shards, although no one had all that many. And so far, there hadn’t been any Shardmeets in town since they had been there, not that Zyzekka Pangolla would likely let them, unless it took place in the caravanserai. People were sensibly reticent about the details of their Shard collections. Shards were coveted, and there was no logical reason to advertise that one had a lot of them. There was too much risk of theft. People had been murdered over Shards in the past.


“I don’t have any myself,” Ruby said. “Although I find them interesting, and entertaining to watch. I’ve just never really wanted to get involved in it all.”


“We did hear from one of the members of JB’s Marvelous Acts that they knew someone who had managed to get a Shard that made their garden grow,” Sweet Jon said. “Flower everywhere.”


“Oh! That’s pretty nice! See, now that one is one that I wouldn’t mind having at home. It would allow me to grow more and better vegetables.”


Teressy laughed. “What do you mean? You eat flowers?”


“No, vegetables. It doesn’t work for them?”


“It just made a bunch of flowers grow, is what I heard. Which is great if you are a florist.”


“Or a beekeeper!” Sweet Jon mentioned.


“Flowers were growing out of the planters, the grounds, the walls. Everywhere.” Teressy grinned. “They have to trim them back if they want to look out a window!”


“That sounds crazy!” Ruby admitted.


She spent the next few hours chatting and getting to know them. Shortly after sundown, she went to her room. It wasn’t large; just a space big enough for a bed that could sleep two or three people, with a large chest at the foot of the bed. There was just enough room to walk around either side of the bed, but not much more. A pair of oil lamps, one on either side of the room, gave enough light to see, although if she wanted to read, she would have to provide her own lighting to do so without eye strain.


Her key opened the lock on the door, and the lock on the chest. But that, and the door bar, was the limit of her security. She locked the door, and lowered the door bar into place. She slept in her silversilks, with her staff lying nearby. She was developing some rather paranoid habits, and she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased with that or not.


Eykit


The Silver Blossom Caravanserai was, like many caravanserai, a loud place filled with activity, even at midday. It was mostly full, with two caravans staying there. One was primarily Human, the other was primarily Goblin, although they had a few Orcs in their employ. Judging from what Eykit could hear, the Goblin caravan was heading southward, coming from the area of Shiik’tavi. While Eykit had heard of the place, he’d never been there. Dwarfchat was the farthest he’d ever been from Port Karn. The only real fact he knew about Shiik’tavi was that it was a large city, primarily Goblin, far upriver along the Altasirya River. And he only knew that because every now and again cattle would be sent downriver to be butchered for meat.


He threaded his way through the crowd of people; surreptitiously feeling for obvious coin purses. He kept himself in check, as he didn’t need to alienate himself at the place he wanted to stay for the night. Having someone suspect a thief in their midst would be…counterproductive. Although his fingers’ “scouting mission” did find several patrons with some coin. But some of them were very, very tempting….


He made his way to the bar along the back end of the room, a large polished wooden affair with stools of varying heights arranged in front of it. He climbed up onto one of the taller ones, noticing that the seats were adjustable via a large metal screw. He could spin around like a rambunctious child on the stool, but doing so would either move the seat up or down. He put his elbows down onto the bar, clasping his hands in front of him, looking at the barman, waiting.


The barman, a Dwarf, was in conversation with a Human, who must have been the innkeeper, based upon what Eykit could hear. He was giving some directions to the bartender regarding drink choices for specific clientele. Apparently, one of the caravans had someone the innkeeper either knew, or wanted to impress, because he told the barkeep to use “the good wine” when they had dinner that night. The Dwarf nodded, and the Human went off to take care of other business.


The bartender sported what must have been a local fashion: a colorful beard. Eykit had seen them on his short walk from the wharves to the caravanserai, but he hadn’t gotten too good a look. Lower Dwarfchat didn’t have as many Dwarves as he would have thought, although given the obvious difference in buildings between the ones in Lower Dwarfchat and the ones he could see along the cliff top, perhaps Lower Dwarfchat was where the “lower classes” lived. Dyes weren’t cheap, and using them to color beards must not be a trivial cost.


The bartender in question came over to him, a jolly looking Dwarf wearing colorful clothes. His beard, mostly a bright yellow and green, stood out on his chest like the breast of some colorful bird.


“What can I get ya?” he said, wiping the bar in front of Eykit with a rag.

“An ale would be good.”


“We’ve got three: a bitter light colored one with a sweet finish, a red ale with a rounded body, and a malty dark ale with hints of winterspice.”


“The red ale sounds good. I’ll have that.”

The bartender turned to the three kegs behind the bar, holding a mug under the center one as he filled it with a frothing, reddish liquid. He placed the mug in front of Eykit. “That’ll be three marks.”


Eykit paid him, and took a sip. It was good, not too bitter; and there was a floral hint as well as something else that he couldn’t identify that gave the drink the full-bodiedness that the bartender had alluded to.


“Hey, barkeep!” Eykit said. “Who do I talk to for a room?”


The Dwarf turned his head to face Eykit. “Talk to Andre,” he said. “That guy over there.” He gestured with the mug he held at the man who’d he’d been talking too not too long ago.


“Thanks!” Eykit said, and, taking his mug with him, made his way to “Andre”.

Andre Coulton, innkeeper at the Silver Blossom Caravanserai


“Excuse me,” Eykit said as he walked up to him. He had to crane his neck to look up at the taller Human.


“Yes?” the man replied. “What can I do for you?”


“I need a room.”


“Can do. Still have a few left.”


“I’m sort of at my wits—and purse—end.” Eykit gave the man his best “can you do a friend a favor” look. “I was wondering if you could manage to swing a deal for me and knock some marks off the price of the room.” Eykit looked both desperate and needy, without seeming like it was absolutely necessary.


Andre thought about it, looking around at the nearly full inn. “Ah what the hell. You seem like a nice guy. Sure. It’ll cost you only fifteen marks.”


“Thanks, I appreciate it. A lot.” Eykit gave him a friendly grin. “I’m Eykit, but the way.” He stuck out his hand.


“Andre. Andre Coulton.” He took Eykit’s hand, giving it a shake.


Eykit took a sip of his ale. “How long have you been innkeeper here?”


“A little while. Several years now.”


“Have you always been an innkeeper, or is it something that you only later realized you enjoyed?”


Andre scratched his head, and leaned back against the doorframe. “Always, really. My folks were innkeepers, and I helped them out growing up. I never really thought about doing anything else.”


“Your folks in town?”


“Oh no. I grew up in a small town near Sheepshear. Only one inn there, run by my folks. If I was to be an innkeeper myself, I had to move. So I came to Dwarfchat. Took over this place after the previous innkeeper retired.”


“And how has that been?”


“Oh, I think about six years or so.”


“And you like it?”


“Yup.” Andre shrugged. “It’s what I know. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”


“You must really like people.”


“I do.” Andre smiled. “It’s nice meeting people. I get to meet all kinds of folks. More than what my folks get to meet. Sheepshear is on a major caravan route, but it’s nothing like Dwarfchat. Most of the people staying at Mom and Dad’s inn aren’t usually in caravans, or they are just overflow. Here, though!” He got a gleam in his eyes. “I get just about every kind of person here. I think I have seen just about every kind of person coming through here. Even the reptilefolk and skyfolk.”


“Reptilefolk?”


“Call themselves ‘Kler’naks’. Means something in their language, I suppose. Anyway, I get all kinds here, both from the Empire and from outside of it. Had a troupe of drumdancers from J’radi here a month ago.”


“Drumdancers? Really? I would have loved to see them perform!”


"They put on a show here, actually, out in the courtyard, as part of their payment. Set up all their big drums, and their springboards. It was quite a show, with them bouncing around all over, in precise choreographed moves. It was impressive.”


“Dammit. Wish I had been here then.”


Andre smiled sympathetically. “Maybe they will be back through here at some point. They were really good, better than any of the Imperial ones I’ve seen, not that I’ve seen that many.”


“Well, the group out of Hearavgizan is pretty good, but it has Humans and Orcs in it as well as Goblins. And that makes it different than what I assume would be ‘more traditional’. I assume the J’radi drumdancers were all Goblin?”


“Oh yes. Graceful, precise, perfectly timed, beautifully executed.”


“You, my friend, will have to stop talking about them now. I’m getting too agitated about what I missed out on!” Eykit said, smiling. Although he was disappointed he missed it.


J’radi was a country of Goblins, on the west coast of the continent that the Empire shared. It wasn’t a large country, but it had a strong navy, one of the best in the world. Their ships, like their drumdancers, were exquisite. And seemed to dominate any others. They had a way to put a lot of sails on them, giving them speed and maneuverability that made the ships of other nations look like clumsy floating bathtubs by comparison. They were clever, these J’radi.


“Which room is mine?” Eykit asked.


“Oh, sorry,” Andre said, opening a locked cabinet behind him. The shallow cabinet held row upon row of hooks, some of which still had keys dangling from them. He pulled off a key, handing it to Eykit. “Here you go. Room 68. In the west wing.”


“Thanks,” Eykit said, pocketing the key.

Rewards Granted

They got to Dwarfchat, finally. What more do they want??

Missions/Quests Completed

They arrived in Dwarfchat. They found the Mountainstream Inn, confiming that they are in the right place. Taid is upgrading Maggie, his halberd.

Character(s) interacted with

The crew of the Dossit Float
A farmer/grocer of Makarful id-aban, a village downriver from Dwarfchat
Hyacinth Longriver, a Hobbit caravanserai owner
Sweet Jon and Maro, members of Pangolla's Caravan
Malram Quartzshine, Innkeeper of the Mountainstream Inn
Darmund Quartzshine, Barkeeper of the Mountainstream Inn and Malram's son.
The Dwarven associate of Galnir Ashjaw, owner of Ashjaw's Weaponry
Andre Coulton, innkeeper of a caravanserai

Report Date

18 Feb 2024

Primary Location

Dwarfchat

Secondary Location

The Tondene Empire

Related Characters

• Almë
• Elitheris
• Eykit the Eel
• Mister Wiggles
• Norolind
• Ruby Smallburrow
• Taid Tehoredor Lasu

GM's Note: Taid has a Recover Energy skill of 15. He is also Fit, which bumps his effective skill to 17. This means he recovers a FT point every 4 minutes.

GM's Note: regarding halberd parts…the hook on a halberd can be used for two basic things. The first is to just swing it into a target (this is the Swing/Impaling attack). The second is to pull someone or something off a horse, out of line, trip them, etc. (this is the Hook Technique, and does Thrust/Cutting damage). It obviously doesn’t do as much damage, but it can be more flexible as a way to get an advantage in combat.

This is where doing a Rapid Attack can be useful. You get two attacks, both at -6, but the first one could use the hook to pull the shield out of line, followed by a stab with the point. Assuming the first attack is successful, the second wouldn’t be able to be blocked, only dodged (and typically, a Dodge is much less effective than a shield Block).